


Linden Gardens, Notting Hill

by Jtrue



Series: E&Overse [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 105,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jtrue/pseuds/Jtrue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lives of Greg, the BBC producer and Viktor, the footballer, and their friends and family living in London. There will be some heartache, suspense and political intrigue. No magic. Names are the only similarity to Harry Potter. SLASH LEMONS MA</p><p>All characters from Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.  I just take them out and play with them.  </p><p>There are actual Arsenal football club players as characters in this book.  Real People.  Much as I would like to, I do not know them.  I do not know anything about them.  Their personalities and sexual orientations, as depicted herein, are entirely fictional.  I only know their names, what they do and where they come from.  Their families, spouses, or children, if any, are entirely fictional and made up by me.  </p><p>All characters from Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.  I just play with them too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> This is not like any other Harry Potter fanfic you may have read. Names and certain relationships are taken from the books, but all similarities end there. Everyone is Human. No one is magical. This is another spin off from the E&O Universe, about the lives of our beloved friends across the pond. Some of these characters originally appeared in Equal and Opposite, posted elsewhere, chapter 7. The rest are either original characters devised since then, or other characters taken from Harry Potter whose parts have yet to be played. 
> 
> This book will run concurrently with Enticements & Obstructions by OhJasperMyJasper, posted elsewhere, and picks up after chapter 13. Events depicted herein are tied into the lives of the central characters from my first book, Culture Shock, that take place after chapter 24. If you have not read those, I sure recommend that you do.

Chapter 1: Mission Impossible

 

(One Week After Emmett and Nasir's Emergency Exodus from the United Arab Emirates)

They gathered at Molly Mogs as often they did in the evenings. It was their very favorite place. 'Fancy meeting up for a pint?' was the usual question and if answered in the afermative, the location was a given. Dré and Vince both wore black tee shirts. It was a warm summer night, but Greg could not remember the last time he had seen his pale friend in short sleeves. The very thin man wore black jeans while his beefy partner had on denim shorts. Greg and his better half both wore tank tops and shorts. Greg would be the first to admit that Viktor looked better in that kind of outfit, but the Bulgarian liked to see his partner dressed this way, and so he was. Rick was still in his work attire, but his necktie was in his pocket and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. They all stood at their usual table midway between the doors and the bar. 

"It's bloody awful, what happened to Emmett and Nasir in the Emirates. They barely made it out with their lives! A man died because someone thought he was one of them. And I just can't stop thinking about that poor Indian lad who lost his partner and can't even let anyone see him mourn," Greg shook his head. 

"Poor sod," Dré agreed. "That is really shitty." 

Vince was his usual quiet self but moved his body closer to his lover, put his arm around him and rubbed the slight man's ribs in silent communion. 

"We should get him," Viktor gave a determined nod. 

"Get him? What do you mean, get him?" Rick asked. 

"I mean we should get him out. Bring him here. Is no good there," Viktor stated. 

"How would we do that?" Greg asked. 

"We go. We tell him we know Nasir. We tell him we know what happened and we are very sorry and we take him," Viktor gave a shrug. 

"You're bloody serious," Rick observed. 

"How could we just do that?" Dré asked. "You make it sound simple, but it wouldn't be." 

"Well, let's think this through," Greg laid his hands flat on the table. "We'd need to find him and make contact somehow. Then we'd need a plane ticket and not just for him, but all of us. He's an Indian, so he must have a passport from India. And, Vik, you're leaving for Austria for training camp tomorrow. When would we do this?" 

"I must go with team to camp. You must go without me," Viktor was clear. 

"Oh, that's just great," Greg did not like the sound of that. 

"Luna can stay with Helena," Viktor stated. "You know she will. And you are brave and strong and much smarter than me." 

"Huh," Dré scoffed. 

"Shut it, you wanker," Greg said to Dré and then looked to his partner. "Well, I don't know about the brave and strong part." 

Rick could not help his snicker. Viktor laughed and gathered his man to him in a bear hug. He kissed Greg right between his eyes for emphasis. 

"Okay, so, plane tickets," Greg took back up. "And how would we get him into the country?" Greg, Viktor and Rick turned to Dré.

"Oh, bloody hell. You lot are going to make me ask my father, aren't you?" Dré complained. 

"It's a good cause, Duck," Vince spoke for the first time since they arrived. 

"I know it is," Dré reluctantly agreed. The influence that the thin diva's partner had on him was not lost on any of them. "I'll get my mum to ask him. Christ knows the bastard owes her a couple of million favors. If he ever goes from being the Shadow Home Secretary to the actual Home Secretary then there would really be no living with him." 

"You make me wish I could vote," Viktor commented. 

"If only, mate, if only," Dré nodded and took a gulp of his beer. 

"We'll need to rent a couple of cars probably," Greg continued to think out loud. "A hotel fairly near to the airport, I think. And we'll need Nasir's family's address." 

"You have your phone? Call Emmett now," Viktor gestured with his half full glass. 

"Why don't I just do that, then?" Greg pulled out his cell and scrolled to Emmett's number. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Across the ocean and continent Emmett had only just returned from lunch. He wore dress pants and shirt, and sat in his office at his desk. He read an email from his boss on changes to be made to plans Emmett had been working on for a major hotel remodel in Portland. 

"Dammit," Emmett muttered aloud to himself. "This is exactly what you told me not to do in the first place," he shook his head as he thought about all the hours he had wasted heading down the wrong path. His cell rang from where it sat atop his desk and Emmett glanced at it to see who was calling. When he saw the number, Emmett snatched up the phone. 

"Hey, Greg. This is a pleasant surprise," Emmett's smile could be clearly heard in his voice. 

"Hi, Emmett. We got your email, obviously," Greg greeted. "We're all just here at the pub." 

"Oh, say 'hi' to everybody," Emmett bid. 

"Emmett says 'hi'," Greg relayed. 

"Tell Emmett, bear hug!" Viktor leaned in close to his partner and spoke loudly toward the phone. 

Emmett laughed. "Tell Vik, right back atcha." 

"You two," Greg shook his head. Viktor chuckled to himself. He very much liked Emmett. There were few men with whom he could do that. 

"So, what's up, Greg?" Emmett asked. 

"So, the boys and I have been talking. First, we're really glad that you two got out okay and you're safe," Greg began. 

"Thanks. Things got a little tense there for a minute," Emmett understated. 

"We just can't stop thinking about that poor Indian lad, left behind all alone," Greg added. 

"Oh, I know. It just kills me that Pankaj got killed. They were so cute together too. They were real cool when people were watching, but you could tell," Emmett spoke fondly. "Ashok's a real sweet kid and he lost his partner. How would you or I feel if we lost Viktor or Nasi suddenly and violently, you know? And he can't let anyone see him cry. He has no one to talk to, no one to comfort him because no one can know. It just kills us." 

"We were rather thinking along the same lines, mate," Greg agreed, "and wondered if we couldn't just get him out of there." 

"Oh, my God, I know! I so wish there were some way to get him out of there, to rescue him from that hell he must be in," Emmett completely agreed. 

"Right. Exactly what we were thinking. Now obviously you and Nasir can't go back to the Emirates, but what's to stop us going in?" Greg asked. 

"What? Really? Greg, are you serious?! Oh my God!" Emmett was beside himself. "That would be incredible!" 

"We haven't quite worked out the logistics of it yet, but yes, we are very serious," Greg stated. 

"Oh my God. Let me just shut my office door here, and can you hang on a quick sec while I get Nasi on the line with us? He's at home," Emmett asked. 

"Go right ahead, mate," Greg agreed. "He's going to link in Nasir right now." 

"Good," Viktor nodded. 

"So, who's in? And when are we going to go?" Greg stated. 

"Go right away," Viktor urged. 

"I've got nothing big on at the museum until next month, so now would actually be a good time," Dré affirmed. 

"We're in," Vince added as he pulled his slight lover tighter to his side. 

"Hell, I'm in too. I've got plenty of holiday," Rick gestured with his glass before he took a gulp. 

"What, you're not going to wait around for H to see how he makes up for missing your anniversary?" Dré questioned in a mocking tone. 

"Fuck no! The bastard had the cheek to get angry with me for being upset when he canceled our anniversary weekend. He says he'll reschedule, but it won't be the same. And frankly, he's not the only one who has a life. If he plans something for when I'm gone, I'll be glad to have a reason to miss it," Rick let his hurt pride and anger show. 

"Greg," Emmett came back on the line, "I've got Nasi on with us." 

"Greg!" Nasir's excited voice greeted. 

"Nasir, mate. Glad to hear you're safe in your home with Emmett where you belong," Greg greeted. 

"No one can be more glad of it than me. Greg, you think you can get Ashok?!" Nasir asked. 

"I don't see why not. We just need to find him and make contact. You don't think he would hesitate, do you?" Greg countered. 

"No! He would jump at the chance now that he has lost Pankaj, once he knows he can trust you," Nasir assured. "I will email you a letter of introduction for you to give him from me. You must not let anyone see you give it to him. I will also email you my parents' address and detailed directions. I do not know who will be driving for them now. It will either be Ashok or Vijay."

"Oh, right. I was going to ask how to best make contact. Now, how do we tell them apart? It won't do to give your letter to the wrong man," Greg made the point. 

"They are easy to tell apart. Vijay has a pot belly and a big nose. Ashok is young, thin and very cute," Nasir stated. 

"Yeah, you shouldn't have any trouble on that score," Emmett added. 

"Sounds easy enough," Greg agreed. 

"Greg, you will take him to the UK? How will you do that?" Nasir asked. "Will he not need a visa?"

"Dré's father will take care of that. The British Embassy will be standing by to assist us," Greg informed. He looked to Dré and gave a questioning shrug. Dré only nodded in confirmation.

"Greg, you must email me your bank information right away. I will have Garrett wire you money this afternoon," Nasir stated. 

"Oh. I guess I hadn't given any thought to what this will cost," Greg confessed and shrugged at his friends again. 

"Who all is gonna go, Greg?" Emmett asked. 

"Dré, Vince, Rick and I. Vik is off to training camp tomorrow," Greg answered. 

"Or else I go also," Viktor assured loudly. 

"We will pay for everything, Greg. Garrett will wire you fifty thousand dollars, US. Will that be enough?" Nasir asked. 

"Christ's sake, Nasir. It surely won't cost that!" Greg protested. 

"I hope you do not think to fly economy. We do not fly economy and would not ask our friends to fly economy either. I like to think of you comfortable in First on British Airways. You very much deserve it. And you do not know what might come up. Do not protest. It is the very least we can do," Nasir instructed. 

"Well, I'm sure we can make do in club class," Greg hedged. 

"Then you use the rest to take care of him until he gets established. And you let us know if you need more. Greg, this is a most wonderful thing that you do," Nasir did not attempt to disguise his admiration. 

"I agree, Greg. We can't thank you guys enough," Emmett echoed. 

"Thank us when we have him safely on English soil. I'll get my email off in just a bit. You chaps email me every detail you can think of," Greg wrapped up. 

"Let's stay in close touch, Greg. Call anytime, day or night," Emmett stressed. 

"We'll send along flight details as soon as we know them. Cheers, mates. We'll be talking very soon," Greg finished. 

"Bye, Greg, and thanks again," Emmett spoke. 

"Yes, thank you so much, Greg. You do not know what this means to us," Nasir added. 

"I look at it this way: Ashok's our brother too. Cheers, mates," Greg said again and hung up his phone. 

"What was that bit about club class? How much is this going to cost?" Dré demanded. 

"Nasir is wiring money. He wants to underwrite our little excursion," Greg revealed. 

"Oh, well, in that case," Dré was more than satisfied. 

Rick pulled his phone from his pocket, "When do we leave?" 

"See when the flights are. I'll just send a quick email with our bank info." Greg pulled up the email app on his phone. 

"We'll fly British, right?" Rick asked. 

"Is there another airline?" Dré was snobbishly dry. 

"There's a flight tomorrow night at nine forty," Rick informed. 

"Do we know where our passports are?" Dré asked. 

"I do," Vince assured. 

"There. Now I'll just send a quick note to Luna to make sure she's on board," Greg worked away. 

"Is good," Viktor declared with a firm nod. 

"Lene and I were going to join you at the end of camp and then go see your family in Varna," Greg observed. 

"Why you don't do that still?" Viktor asked. 

"Oh, we will. I just won't be able to spend as much time with your mum and your family as we originally planned," Greg stated.

"Why don't you just meet him in Varna?" Dré asked. 

"I don't fancy landing in Varna without Vik. I don't speak the language," Greg protested. Viktor narrowed his eyes at his partner. 

"Tay obicham, Grigor," Viktor spoke. Greg could not keep the smile from his face. 

"I love you too, Sweets," Greg leaned toward his partner. Viktor closed his eyes as his lover softly brushed their lips together. 

"And would you now like to try another excuse?" Dré enquired. 

"Knowing a few key words and phrases that are important to me is not the same thing as speaking the language," Greg pointed out. "How would knowing how to say 'I love you' in Bulgarian help me out in the Varna airport? Besides, it will be fun to meet up in Austria. We'll just come in a day or two in advance now so I can spend the most time with your mum and family." 

"Is good. My maika and sestra and brat all love you," Viktor stated. 

"I know they do. I love them too. It'll be fun to be there for the holiday," Greg added. 

"What holiday is that then?" Dré asked. 

"There, we're all booked. I'm sending us all confirmations," Rick announced. "Now, you said hotel near the airport? We'll share, Greg, right?" 

"That's fine," Greg agreed. 

"I'll get two rooms with twin beds," Rick joked. Vince said nothing, but swung his arm to wap the taller man's shoulder with his knuckles. Rick only snickered as he worked. 

"Preobrazhenie," Viktor answered the blonde man's question. 

"What the hell is that?" Dré pressed. 

"Is like carnival. We eat!" Viktor enthused. "My maika make traditional zagoveznishka cake."

"My, doesn't that sound appetizing?" Dré deadpanned. 

"It's very good actually," Greg endorsed. 

"There are a lot of nice hotels in Dubai. We're going to Dubai, right?" Rick asked. 

"Fuck, Diggory, where the hell did you book us?" Dré demanded. 

"I booked us to Dubai. There's an airport in Abu Dhabi as well. I just wanted to make sure," Rick defended. 

"Yeah, it's Dubai," Greg confirmed. 

"How about the Radisson Blu? It's right on the river in the old city and only like two miles from the airport," Rick offered. 

"Sounds perfect," Greg gave a nod. 

"Right," Ricked keyed away. "Club level rooms?" 

"Rick," Greg made a disapproving face. 

"Full English, cocktails, tea?" Rick spread his hands. 

"Snacks?" Vince asked. 

"It pays for itself, Gregory. Book the club rooms," Dré dictated. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Luna rose from where she quietly watched the big flat screen television mounted on the wall in the spacious living room when the front door opened. 

"Hi, boys," the platinum blonde woman greeted them with her trademark sweet smile. 

"Hi, Lunes. Sorry we're so late," Greg gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You're sure it's no trouble? I know this is really short notice."

"I can sleep here just as easily as at my place. I'll just bring a bag to work with me and come home with you," Luna patted Greg's arm for emphasis. 

"Okay, thanks. We can have dinner, the three of us," Greg suggested. 

"Brilliant," Luna was agreeable. She picked up her handbag from where she had hung it on the banister post as was her habit. "See you tomorrow." 

"Night. Cheers," Greg smiled. 

"Be right back," Viktor leaned to give his partner a kiss on his lips before he walked out with Luna. It was a given that Viktor would walk Luna back to the Notting Hill Gate tube station. Greg shut the front door behind them and then carefully made his way down the stairs. High on his list of priorities was checking on his sleeping daughter. On the lower garden level was the spacious master suite and a smaller connected bedroom that they had turned into a walk in closet, their daughter's good sized bedroom, and the front and back gardens. The door to Helena's bedroom was never fully closed, but nearly so while she slept. Greg pushed open the door and leaned into the quiet room. Satisfied that his daughter was asleep in her big girl bed, Greg walked carefully across the room to her. He reached a hand to gently stroke her hair while resisting the considerable urge to pick her up for a proper hug. He wanted a hug from his little girl, but his fatherly instinct told him to let the sleeping child be. Greg withdrew from his daughter's bedroom as quietly as he entered it and proceeded to the opposite end of the hall to the master suite. He pulled his tank top off over his head as he did so and dropped it on the bed. His sandals, shorts and underwear were shed as well and he pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from a chest of drawers near the door. Greg shook the bottoms out, stepped into them, pulled them up and tied a bow to keep them in place. Since the day their daughter could get out of bed by herself, he and his Gunner stopped sleeping naked. Greg remembered with a smile that morning they were awakened by a little body crawling across them on top of the sheet and blanket. By sheer luck Greg's boxers had been right beside the bed and while Helena worked herself and her doll into the bed, he quickly grabbed them and slipped them on. Viktor kept the blankets snugly about himself while he cuddled their daughter. Greg had risen and taken Helena with him to head for the kitchen, leaving Viktor to get up and put something on. Since that day the number of times Greg woke to a half hard Bulgarian cock rubbing along his nose was equal to the number of times he woke up with three people in their king size bed. 

Greg just stood smiling at the memories of his family in his bedroom and was only brought back to the present when he heard his partner come in through the door above. He walked out into the hall as Viktor descended the stairs. 

"There is my slunchitze," Viktor took Greg in his arms. The Brit relished the feel of his man's strong arms on his bare skin. That just never got old. 

"Mmm," Greg closed his eyes and rubbed Viktor's muscular back through his tight tank top. 

"I check on Lena now," Viktor let go of his man and snuck quietly into their daughter's room just as Greg had done. Viktor did not have the self control his partner did and bent down to kiss the sleeping child on her temple. 

"Don't wake her," Greg whispered. He made a face at himself and regretted the nag as soon as it left his lips. A better and more doting father than Viktor Krum had never been born. 

"I not wake her," Viktor smiled lovingly at his sleeping daughter a moment before walking back out to join Greg in the hall. "You, come," Viktor commanded as he peeled his tank top off. Once in their bedroom Viktor worked his sneakers off his big feet, toe to heel, and lifted each foot in turn to peel off his white ankle socks. "Close door," he added as he unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts. He let them drop and, as he wore nothing beneath, stepped out of them naked. Greg did as he was told and took in the sight of his lover's chiseled nude form. A sight which, even after seven years, never failed to cause his cock to stir. Greg walked to Viktor and watched one side of his lover's almost goateed mouth turn up in a smile as the Bulgarian reached for his pajama bottoms. Greg felt Viktor pull the tie to release the bow. 

"You not need this," Viktor stated. 

"No?" Greg played coy. 

"I go tomorrow and no see you for over three weeks. I need you now," Viktor pulled the waistband of his lover's sleep pants loose and both men were already half hard as the garment fell to the floor. 

"I hate training camp," Greg confessed as he ran his hands over his lover's big, solid pecs that were lightly dusted in hair. Viktor moved Greg to the side of the bed and pushed him to sit down on it. The Bulgarian knelt between his lover's pale legs. 

"Lay back," Viktor instructed as he spread Greg's legs wide apart and moved between them. Greg leaned back on his elbows as Viktor lowered his head and began to kiss his way up Greg's nearly hairless left thigh. The Brit's pale, uncut, short, but beer can thick post stood at full attention by the time Viktor's lips reached his balls. Viktor kissed each orb reverently in their nearly smooth sac. Greg had little hair on his scrotum and didn't bother to shave. Viktor ran his scruffy chin over them and enjoyed the gasp that forced from his lover. He looked up into Greg's eyes as he ran his tongue beneath the loose British eggs. 

"Oh, Vik, I love that," Greg watched his talented lover support his stones on a strong tongue before Viktor drew one into his mouth. Greg laid back flat on their bed as his testicles each took a turn in the sensual embrace of his lover's mouth. Greg's erection was such that it did not lay on his abdomen, but rather stood up somewhat from his body. His foreskin pulled completely free of his head when he was aroused and the thick cock stood trembling in anticipation as Viktor at last relinquished Greg's nuts. 

"Ugh, yeah, Sweet," Greg felt Viktor's tongue travel slowly up his sensitive cum tube to his head. Viktor gave a lick through the snake's moist eye. He stretched his lips around Greg's spike and went down on the pale post. 

"Ugh," Greg moaned again as the most of his cock filled his lover's mouth. Viktor slowly drew his lips up the fat tool and sank down again. 

"Get that big Bulgarian gun up here," Greg raised his head and watched Viktor slowly pull off of his engorged penis. Viktor smiled and stood up between Greg's legs at the edge of the bed. 

"My slunchitze want Bulgarian cock?" Viktor tilted his head and took hold of his imposing weapon. He was not Greg's thickness, as very few men were, but had several inches on his lover. 

"I need Bulgarian cock. My Bulgarian cock," Greg reached for Viktor. "Get up here." 

Viktor only smiled and moved around to the foot of the bed. He climbed up on the bed on his knees, still holding onto himself, and smacked Greg across the face with his formidable organ. His precum left a smear across Greg's cheek. 

"Oh, yeah. Smack me around with it!" Greg enthused. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and his own prick twitched as Viktor smacked him with his big dick again. Viktor tried a third time, but Greg caught him with his lips. Greg lunged forward and took Viktor in his throat. 

"Ugh!" Viktor was taken by surprise. He let go of himself and leaned forward on his fists on the mattress as his lover took him down his throat. "Lapai mi huia." 

Greg doubted whether Viktor realized that he had just told him to suck his dick in Bulgarian, but fortunately he knew what that meant, and he needed no urging anyway. Greg reached around to the footballer's hard, round ass and massaged both firm glutes as he deeply sucked the long, hard spear. 

"You like I fuck your face?" Viktor looked down on his lover. "Da ti go nachookam v ustichkata," he smiled as he told Greg that he would fuck his face in his native language. Greg could only guess at that one, but was pretty sure what it meant when Viktor began to thrust into his mouth. The stronger man closed his eyes and tossed his head back as he bucked his pole down his partner's throat. 

"No, no," Viktor stopped after a moment and pulled his prick out of his lover's mouth. "This no good," he shook his head. Viktor moved to lay down on his back next to Greg on the bed head to toe. Greg smiled. He knew what his lover wanted. Greg rolled over and got up on all fours while straddling the prone muscular footballer. 

"Da," Viktor ran his hands appreciatively up Greg's thighs. "This I like," he stuck out his tongue and captured the drop of precum from the tip of the fat organ that hung in his face. In truth, Greg liked this position too. He spread his legs wider apart to lower his cock into his lover's waiting and willing mouth. It was much easier for him to be on top and control the sex as while his crank could make his lover's jaw ache, it was not as likely that he would choke Viktor with it. On the other hand, his hung Gunner had a cock that could choke anyone, and while Greg had a deep throat, while he was on top he could control how and when and for how long he took it down his throat. Greg admired the sight of the hard, quivering Bulgarian meat as it lay on the furry, rippled abdomen beneath it. Viktor's heavy orbs hung in their smoothly shaved sac between his wide spread legs. Greg ran his tongue along his lover's sensitive cum tube and smiled when the big dick gave a jump and hit his chin. He felt Viktor's tongue circle around his head within the prone man's mouth. Greg supported himself by slipping his left arm under Viktor's muscular left thigh. He knew Viktor liked this and expected the appreciative moan he heard as well as felt around his own hardness in Viktor's mouth. Greg held up the big Bulgarian prick and gave it a wet kiss on it's now weeping head. 

"Hmm," Viktor felt his lover's lips wrap around him again. He felt his bone sink slowly into Greg's mouth and down his lover's throat. "Mmph!" Viktor ran his hands up onto Greg's pale ass as the man lowered his hips more and began to thrust into his mouth. Greg loved the feel of his lover's hard body beneath him and the tight embrace of his mouth around his thick crank almost as much as he loved taking the big Gunner's weapon down his throat. He gave short, deep, siphoning sucks on the drooling joint as he pressed his pubes to Viktor's lips and gave small deep thrusts to match. Viktor really liked when his man made love to him this way. He loved the feel of Greg's thick cock as it thrust into his mouth. Viktor closed his eyes and dropped his arms out to his sides. He felt Greg's lips slip up and down his straining bone. Viktor's strength was easily twice that of his partner, but he relished the imagined feel of being powerless beneath Greg, being used for his pleasure and taken at the same time. 

Greg sucked his lover's cock in time with his thrusts into Viktor's mouth. It turned Greg on no end as the big organ throbbed in his mouth. He could taste the Gunner's continuously leaking precum. Beneath him the prone man's lips clutched to his own post as he fucked his lover's mouth. Greg alternated by taking every inch, surprisingly easy at this angle, of the Bulgarian spear down his throat. He felt the muscular body beneath him respond and timed it just right. It was a game Greg very much enjoyed. He stifled Viktor's moan by sinking his entire post to the back of his lover's throat. Greg loved the feel of the Gunner's twitching muscles and the way Viktor's mouth and tongue moved around his buried mast, as his pelvis pressed into Viktor's face and the big cock throbbed down his throat. Viktor would have moaned very loudly if he could have. He loved when Greg shoved every inch of his fat spike into him. He loved the way Greg's balls lay over his nose and the feel of the tight, warm, wet confines of his lover's mouth and throat as Greg swallowed his entire length. If they could but only stay that way forever, but alas they both needed air. Greg drew his mouth half way up the Gunner's primed weapon and moved his hips to lift his own joint in Viktor's mouth. 

"Mmph!" Viktor finally let go his very satisfied moan as Greg's head began to bob on his rock hard cock. He did his best to massage with his lips and tongue the thick penis that began to piston in his mouth. Viktor ran his hands up Greg's thighs again to massage the flexing glutes with his strong fingers. His eyes nearly crossed when Greg took hold of his tightening balls. Greg knew how much it turned Viktor on when he gripped his Gunner's big nuts and massaged them with his hand while he sucked Viktor's hard, leaking, straining penis.

"Hm, mm," Viktor moaned around the thick, thrusting prick as Greg increased his pace. Viktor was powerless in the hands, and mouth, of his talented British lover as the man above him propelled them both toward orgasm. Greg held his lover's big stones in a firm massaging grip as he sucked the throbbing cock faster. He moved his hips to fuck Viktor's face harder and deeper and knew he would lose it soon. 

"Hmmph," Greg almost whined as his orgasm fast approached. He sucked Viktor's throbbing crank with abandon, wanting to make his lover come with him. Viktor saw that his lover's orbs were pulled tight to the base of his cock as the fat post stabbed deep in his mouth. He felt Greg's fingers squeeze his own stones in his smooth and ever tightening sac. Greg's thrusts became erratic as his control over his own body became difficult. He saw the well developed muscles of Viktor's thighs flex and felt his lover's strong body tremble beneath him. Greg squeezed his eyes shut as he teetered on the brink. He sucked Viktor's big joint harder and faster yet in his desperation. Viktor's open eyes could no longer see and he ceased trying to draw a breath as every muscle in his body tensed. Greg was so going to make him come, and very hard, but he fought valiantly to hold out. Viktor did not want to come until Greg did. 

Greg sucked his lover's big cock as hard as he could and massaged the heavy eggs in their tight sac with a firm grip, but it was too late. He scrunched his whole face around Viktor's iron hard penis and struggled to continue to suck properly as he blew out in the Gunner's mouth. Viktor heard Greg make the almost whine that he made, muffled though it was by his own dick, that was music to the Bulgarian's ears, even as semen flooded his mouth. Viktor's eyes crossed and his back arched beneath Greg. The Brit had barely the wit to notice his lover's joint grow even harder as the Gunner's weapon went off in his mouth. 

"Umph!" Greg thrilled to the copious outpouring of jizz. He sucked Viktor's blasting organ even as he continued to buck his own spurting joint into his lover's mouth. Viktor only gurgled beneath Greg as he gulped his lover's juice. He tried to swallow all of the sweet British cream, but was just not fast enough. Rivulets of milk escaped the corners of his mouth as Greg thrust deeply and continued to unload in his mouth. Greg did not spill a drop as he drank from the big Bulgarian hose. He sucked the prone man only gently and slowly now as Viktor's potent spunk gushed into his mouth. Greg gulped down a mouthful of Krum juice and his mouth filled again. Viktor sputtered around the thick post and quickly wrapped his arms around Greg's waist to hold him in place as his lover tried to lift his hips. Greg did not want Viktor to choke on his load, but Viktor held him firmly in place. The Gunner loved when his man nearly drowned him with his cum. Greg suckled at Viktor's still oozing cock and let go of the big loosening nuts. He wrapped his hand around the Gunner's weapon to milk Viktor of his every drop. 

When Greg was satisfied that he had everything Viktor had to give, he at last relinquished the still hard bone and laid his head down on his lover's hip. 

"Ugh, Vik," Greg closed his eyes and let his panting mouth turn up in a smile. He knew Viktor was not finished with him. Unless there was some interruption, or they were in a hurry, Viktor liked to hold his lover's fat cock in his mouth, in it's natural juices, until Greg softened. Only when Greg was finally at half mast did Viktor release his hold on his lover's waist. Viktor lifted Greg up and let his partner's cummy cock slide from his lips. He licked his lips and swallowed all of Greg's essence that remained as he pulled his lover's body back down onto him. Greg let his body relax fully on top of Viktor with his cock and balls on the Gunner's neck. 

"Hmm. My slunchitze taste so good," Viktor murmured contentedly. He wrapped one arm around Greg's waist again and with his other hand soothingly rubbed his partner's back. 

"God I love you," Greg confessed. 

"Tay obicham, Grigor," Viktor said the same. "No, no move," Viktor held Greg tightly when he felt his lover begin to stir. "We stay this way," he tucked his chin to give Greg a kiss right where butt cheek met thigh between his lover's splayed legs. Greg grinned and gave a sigh. He knew they would not actually sleep the whole night like this, but understood why his strong lover was reluctant to release him. And he felt the same way. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Helena had been to Emirates Stadium before, though never on a match day. Greg and Viktor would not have her subjected to the crush of people on the underground that a match generated. They had ridden the Central Line from Notting Hill Gate station seven stops to Holborn station and there transferred to the Piccadilly Line. Five stops later they rode the escalator to the surface at the tube station that served the stadium. Both fathers wore simple tee shirts and jeans. Their daughter wore a thin pink sweater and skirt with tights beneath. Her look was completed by shoes that matched a little white leather handbag she wore with the strap over her head and shoulder, so it crossed her body. She had her own oyster for the underground, and very responsibly kept it safe and accounted for in her little purse. Both of her fathers were very proud of her for that. Viktor had two duffel bags packed for his extended trip. Greg lugged a large one while Viktor carried an even larger one strapped across his back. Helena wanted to carry something as well and Viktor had given her his official team cap, which she held almost reverently in both hands. The team assembled at the stadium, as Arséne Wenger would have everyone go together as a group, and had chartered an aircraft that waited now at Stanstead. 

The team photographer snapped pictures as the players, coaches and other support staff assembled before the two busses in the stadium parking lot by the players' entrance. Greg smiled as he saw the usual gathering of wives, girlfriends and a few other children. Tomas Rosicky, the Gunner from the Czech Republic, held his five year old daughter in his arms while his wife and seven year old son stood beside him. Greg was exceedingly happy to be a recognized member of the Gunners' families. And for his part, Viktor was no less proud of his family than any other Gunner. Like Viktor, all the other players were dressed in casual clothes. Arséne himself wore a simple gray team sweatshirt with the sleeves scrunched up and jeans. Several of the coaches dressed as he did. 

"Hey, guys," Cesc Fabregas greeted them with a clap on Viktor's back as his fellow Midfielder added his bags to the pile. He had a friendly handshake for Greg with a pat on the shoulder. "And who is this very pretty little girl who is getting so big?!" he smiled down on Helena. 

"Hi, Cesc," Helena smiled. She remembered the friendly Spaniard well. Kieran stood nearby in his usual pose with his hands in his shorts pockets, tucked under Lukasz's arm, with his chest to the Pole's ribs. Lukasz absently rubbed his man's back as they stood talking with Armand and Fiona. 

"Oh, look. Viktor's daughter is here," Kieran pulled out from under his lover's protective, possessive arm. Lukasz but glanced at his departing partner and let him go, as he was in mid sentence. 

"Hi, Helena," Kieran beamed at the little girl as he squatted down beside her. 

"Hi, Kieran," Helena smiled and reached to pat him on the shoulder. Kieran was not his usual shy self with little kids and Helena liked the attention he always had for her. 

"Did you come to see your dad off this morning?" Kieran asked the question to which he clearly knew the answer. 

"I did," Helena said proudly. 

"That was really sweet of you. Are you going to miss him? I know he will very much miss you," Kieran rubbed her arm. 

"I will miss daddy. Especially at night. I do so like to fall asleep listening to his voice. And daddy will miss him too," Helena explained. 

"I know he will. Viktor loves you both very much. Can I have a hug before we go?," Kieran asked and opened his arms. The little girl did not hesitate to launch herself into his arms. 

"Hi, Greg," Fiona had a kiss on the cheek for her fellow Gunner partner. 

"Hi, Fee," Greg patted her back. 

"Are you going into work today?" Fiona asked. 

"I do have to go in," Greg answered. 

"Pity. I took the day off. Thought maybe I could entice you into a day of lunch and shopping," Fiona put a hand to the back of Helena's head. "Just us girls." 

Greg laughed. "We'll have to give it a miss this time, I'm afraid." 

"Lukasz!" Viktor took hold of the Keeper's shoulder and grabbed Kieran's as well when the slighter man stood up next to them. "I envy you both, so much!" 

"I know!" Lukasz pulled his lover to his chest. "I not go over three weeks without Kieran. I not do it," the Pole shook his head vehemently. 

"Lucky buggers," Greg muttered. 

"I share with Andrey," Viktor announced. 

"Oh, will you?" Greg looked around for the Russian. 

"I know he will be missing girl. There will be much slapping meat in our room. I tell you this," Viktor stated. 

"A little hand to gland combat?" Greg chuckled. "You know I will be too." 

"You boys," Fiona shook her head. 

"Don't let Arséne hear you say that," Kieran shook his head. He looked up at Lukasz. "I'm kind of surprised he's letting us room together." 

"He know if he do not, we not go," Lukasz was firm. 

A whistle blew at that moment. "Gentlemen," Arséne called in his French accent. Greg quickly leaned down beside Helena.

"Do you remember what I told you?" Greg asked in a whisper. The little girl nodded her confirmation. 

"Come here, my princess," Viktor picked his daughter up and held her tightly in his arms. "My precious girl." 

"I love you, Tatee," Helena held her arms around her bigger father's thick neck as tightly as she could. 

"Oh! I love you call me that!" Viktor held her even tighter. When his daughter called him daddy in his language his heart absolutely melted. "You make me most happy father in whole world! I love you too, my precious princess. You be good for daddy and for mum while we both gone."

"I will, Tatee," Helena agreed. Viktor covered her little face in kisses while she giggled in his arms. 

"I put you down now. I must hug daddy too," Viktor said as he placed his daughter back on her little feet. Helena stood at her fathers' side and smiled as Viktor took Greg in his arms. It always made her feel good to witness her parents be affectionate with each other. 

"You did that," Viktor said quietly into Greg's ear as he held his lover tightly. 

"I love you, Vik. We both do," Greg rubbed his partner's strong back. 

"I love you, Grigor," Viktor closed his eyes and just held Greg for a long moment. 

"Cesc, a little help, please," Arséne complained. 

"Gunners!" Cesc called out loudly and clapped his hands. 

"Okay. I go now. Go save boy," Viktor pulled back enough to give his partner a soft, loving kiss on his lips. 

"Have fun. Train hard," Greg bid. 

"I be very hard next I see you. Do not doubt," Viktor patted his man's shoulder.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that. Me too!" Greg chuckled. Viktor bent to give his daughter one last kiss on her cheek while he squeezed Greg's arm and then headed for the first bus. Helena took her father's hand as they watched Viktor and the other players board their coach. Finally, as the coaches pulled out, they and the other families began to disperse. 

"Time to go, my girl," Greg led his daughter by the hand as they headed back toward the tube station. 

"Daddy, what does gland combat mean?" Helena looked up at her father with a most innocent face. 

"Lene, some one of these days I'm going to explain that to you," Greg said as they walked. "But by that time you'll probably know more than me." 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Seth wore only denim shorts and an open black leather vest. Emmett sat with him in plaid shorts and a white tank top that stretched across his massive chest. It was well after dinner as they relaxed out on the broad penthouse terrace. The only illumination in the dark night was from the open French doors and the normal lights of the city around them. 

"Fifty grand, huh?" Seth mused. "Do you think it will cost that much?"

"Hell, they can have three times that. Whatever it takes," Emmett stressed. 

"I suppose it's worth any amount of money to ease Nasir's conscience. I know he blames himself," Seth stated. 

"We both blame ourselves!" Emmett corrected. 

"I know you do, Emmy," Seth took the bigger man's hand, "but what happened is not your fault, or Nasir's. The only person responsible is the assassin who pulled the trigger." 

"Pankaj only died because he was mistaken for Nasi, because we switched cars. His death will always be on our heads, Seth. It will," Emmett was firm in his conviction. "If we can help poor little Ashok, it's worth any price." 

"If they can get him out of there and take him to the UK, he will have a chance to start over with good people around him and where he is safe," Nasir added as he and Garrett emerged from the house. Nasir carried a tumbler of scotch and a Spaten for Emmett. He wore a tank top and board shorts. Garrett walked beside him with a Kettle One martini for himself and a Grey Goose cosmo for his husband. Garrett was dressed in a tee shirt and jeans with a hole in the left knee. 

"Thanks, Babe," Emmett took his beer bottle as Nasir and Garrett joined their men. "Ashok probably has no idea what it's like to be in a place where he can be free and open about who he is." 

"He could not," Nasir agreed. 

"He sure did seem like a sweet kid," Seth remembered. "I know they really appreciated their night in the desert with us when we did that," Seth put his hand on Garrett's knee and absently ran his fingers into the hole in Garrett's jeans. A smile played at Garrett's lips. This was why he wore these jeans. He knew Seth did it without even thinking and Garrett loved it. 

"Even if they get him out and he makes a good life for himself in the UK, his partner died for me. I will never be able to make up for that. Not ever," Nasir's remorse was clear in his voice as he shook his head. 

"When are they leaving?" Seth asked. 

"It's already tomorrow there. Greg said the night flight out on British Airways in his email. The same one we took," Emmett answered. 

"Here's to the success of our British friends," Garrett raised his glass. "May four go and five safely come back." 

"Amen to that, Garrett," Emmett touched the neck of his bottle to Garrett's martini glass. 

"Inshallah," Nasir echoed and lifted his glass. 

"I'm gonna get my feather," Seth set his glass on the table and rose from his chair. "It brought you two home safely. It can do the same for them," he strode determinedly into the house. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Helena spent the day in the children's center at BBC Television Centre in West London. Greg, Luna and Helena all walked together the short block to the White City tube station on the Central Line. Luna had come to work packed to stay. She rolled her suitcase along behind her as they walked. Three quick stops later and they were at Notting Hill Gate station. All three of them busied themselves in the kitchen as they prepared their dinner. After dinner, Helena knelt on the big king bed in her parents' bedroom and helped her father pack. Greg used a proper suitcase as he would be traveling on a regular commercial flight. He changed into a pink button down shirt and black jeans that Helena picked out for him. A small carry on for toiletries and other travel necessities was slung over Greg's shoulder. When he was finished he checked to make sure he had his passport, hugged his little girl, thanked Luna again with a kiss, and off he went. 

There were three lines that ran through Notting Hill Gate station. This time Greg boarded the Circle Line. Two stops up was Paddington Station. Rick was waiting with his luggage in the station. The tall, lanky man looked sexy in a pale blue Henley with his sleeves scrunched up and snug jeans. Greg bought them each a round trip ticket and they boarded the Heathrow Express train. 

"Saw Viktor off, then?" Rick asked once they were seated comfortably in their carriage. 

"Lene and I went with him to the stadium this morning. I hate being without him for so long, but this trip will very much help take my mind off it," Greg gave a nod. He looked to his taller friend and instantly regretted what he had said. No one went without the man he loved like Rick did. "Sorry, mate," Greg patted Rick's hand. "Did you tell H you were off?" 

"No. I'm not supposed to contact him, right? He can just wonder where I am, if he'll even notice I'm gone," Rick sounded bitter. 

"He'll be furious when you see him next," Greg pointed out. 

"Fuck him. He made the rules, he can live with them. Besides, I deserve a holiday and it's not like I'll ever take one with him. Hell, I can't even get a night in town with him on our anniversary. At least this way I can openly have a great time somewhere exotic." Rick shrugged and gave a smile that looked too bright not to be forced. 

"You know how sorry I am you can't be open in your relationship, Rick, and I'm very glad you're coming with us. As for H, it would serve him right to be frantic for once, wondering where you are and who you're with." Greg squeezed Rick's hand. He looked to his long time friend and gave him a supportive smile. Greg knew Rick was hurting inside and only putting on a brave front. Rick sat for a long minute and then pulled his phone from his messenger bag. He touched the picture of H and touched the key to dial him. 

"Are you mad, calling me at this hour? Ginny's in the bath, but she might easily have been right here!" H answered in an angry voice. 

"Lovely to hear your voice too, H," Rick spoke in a sad, resigned voice. "You know I don't call without a good reason." 

"What is it, then?" H demanded. 

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way to the airport," Rick informed. 

"The airport? Are you meeting someone?" H pressed. 

"Flying out, actually. Something came up and Greg, Dré, Vince and I have to dash off out of the country. I don't quite know when we'll be back," Rick informed. 

"What do you mean you don't know when you'll be back?!" H raised his voice. "I mean to see you this week. I have it all arranged," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "One of my fake business trips. We'll meet at the house and be together all night. Don't mess this up, Rick." 

"Don't mess this up! Who messed it up last time? We were supposed to be together on our anniversary, H! That really meant something to me. I mean it would have done," Rick stated. 

"Oh, God, Rick. Must we go over this again? If I wanted to listen to womanly whining, I would just stay home with Ginny," H was devoid of compassion or concern for the man he professed to love. 

"Why don't you just do that, then!" Rick hung up his phone, turned it off, and placed it back in his bag. 

"I'm sorry, Rick," Greg could not help overhearing in the seat right next to his friend. 

"Don't be, Greg," Rick let his head fall back to rest on the seat. He gave a wry smile. "I should have snatched you up when I had the chance." 

"There was a time you easily could have done, mate, but that was a long time ago," Greg gave a small smile. 

"Does Viktor know how lucky he is?" Rick asked. 

"Is Vik lucky? I think I'm the lucky one. He's a bloody traffic stopping Gunner!" Greg enthused. 

"That's exactly what you said when you first met him!" Rick chuckled. 

"Well, it's just as true today, mate," Greg stated.


	2. Dubai

Chapter 2: Dubai 

The train hurtled out of central London at high speed and whisked them to Heathrow in a mere fifteen minutes. This train made only two stops. They sat and reclined calmly in their seats at the first one, for Terminals One and Three. Terminal Two had long since been closed and there was no stop for Terminal Four. People heading there had to get off at the first stop and transfer to a shuttle. The second stop was directly beneath Terminal Five. Greg and Rick took the long escalator ride up to the Departures level and headed for the nearby British Airways ticket counter. Rick stood by and caught sight of Dré and Vince as they came in from outside. Dré wore a purple polo shirt under a black suit jacket with black jeans. Vince pulled both their suitcases, one large to be checked into the hold and a small rolling carry on. He wore a thin plaid shirt with his sleeves rolled up and snug jeans that hugged his full ass. 

"There you chaps are. I thought we'd see you in the train station," Rick greeted. 

"We took the National Express out of Victoria. Just had to catch the shuttle over from Central Station," Dré explained. 

"Hey, you lot! Get over here. You need to show your passports," Greg called from where he stood nearby at the Club World counter. Rick was quick to hand over his passport. 

"Nasir wired you the money, then?" Dré asked as he produced both passports from his suit jacket inner pocket. 

"And I already paid for the tickets. You two are in row ten E and F, and Rick and I are in eleven E and F," Greg informed. Dré's face clouded over. 

"I had better like these seats, Goyle," Dré warned. "Can you believe my father actually told me he had to check with the Foreign Office to see if it was okay for me to leave the country?! Bloody hell, that man," he shook his head. 

"Is everything ready on the other end, is my question," Greg countered. 

"I have the name of a guy ready to help. Once we get hold of the man's passport, it won't take me five minutes to get his visa," Dré stated. 

"That's one thing we can tick off," Greg nodded. The counter agent issued their boarding passes and handed them their tickets with a smile. 

"Come on, then. Galleries Lounge is this way," Dré set off and the others took up after him. 

"What is that?" Rick asked. 

"The British Airways private club. How do you not know that?" Dré demanded. 

"Don't we have to be members?" Rick asked. "Are you guys members? I'm not."

"Our Club World tickets make us members for our flights. Jesus, Diggory, haven't you been anywhere?" Dré was caustic. 

"I've been across the pond, as you well know, but I've never flown Club World before," Rick stated. 

"Neither have I," Greg added. 

"Well, c'mon then, chaps. Expand your horizons," Dré led the way to security. 

"Have you flown in club before, Vince?" Rick asked as he retrieved his bag last from the x-ray machine. 

"Club Europe. Dré's mum flew us to meet her in Italy last year," Vince answered. 

"Mum adores Rome," Dré commented as he set off again. They descended to the to the underground concourse that connected 5A with 5B and stepped aboard the people mover. Dré then led them to the escalator up to the Galleries Lounge. Once they checked in, they made themselves comfortable within. Vast glass windows gave them a fantastic view of the big aircraft. 

"This is nice. It's quiet," Rick observed as they rolled up to a small round table with four comfortable upholstered arm chairs. 

"That's not all. Who fancies a drink? I know I do," Dré offered. Vince said nothing as he set off. He walked past a long bar table with tall chrome barstools on one side and a long refrigerated trough along the center to keep white wines chilled. On the far wall was was a second bar with red wines and spirits. 

"Can we get a beer?" Rick asked. 

"Only in the bottle. Check those coolers there," Dré gestured past where his lover stood at the second bar as he sat down. 

"I'll go with you," Greg dropped his bag and followed. Vince returned with two glasses of red wine. 

"Claret," Vince said simply as he handed a glass to his lover. 

"Somebody loves me," Dré had a special smile reserved exclusively for his partner. 

"You know it," Vince smiled as he leaned down to give his lover a soft kiss on the lips. "Something to eat?"

"No, you go ahead," Dré sipped his wine. Vince set his glass down on the table and set off again. 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. For those passengers joining British Airways flight fifty seven to Johannesburg, your aircraft will begin boarding at gate forty five momentarily," came the announcement as Greg and Rick sat back down with frosty cold beers in hand. 

"Let's be sure to thank Nasir, yeah? This is the only way to travel!" Rick endorsed. 

"You should see the Concorde Room," Dré was dry. 

"I saw a sign for that. What is that?" Greg asked. 

"The first class lounge," Dré answered. 

"I'll bet that's really nice," Rick mused. 

"My father is intimately familiar with it," Dré spoke disdainfully. 

"There's a really good reason to be happy right here," Greg quipped. Vince returned at that moment with two lunch sized plates of food. 

"What did you find, Vince?" Greg asked. 

"Artichoke dip, blue crab dip and these little sandwiches," Vince pointed to each with a pinky. 

"Blue crab, you said?" Dré interest in food was suddenly piqued. In answer Vince moved his chair closer to the platinum blonde's, spread some of the blue crab onto a small cracker and delicately fed it to his lover. 

"Mmm," Dré chewed. "That's the dogs bollocks, that is," he endorsed. Vince promptly loaded another cracker and fed this to his partner as well. He was then quick to make one for himself. 

"You've got a right big mouth, Dré," Rick teased with a grin. 

"How big his mouth is," Vince bit a little cucumber sandwich in half, "is none of you guy's business," he gestured to both Rick and Greg with the stub of sandwich in his hand. 

Dré just smiled at his partner while Rick and Greg snickered. 

"You want something?" Rick looked to Greg. 

"Maybe some of those little sandwiches. Those look good," Greg answered. 

"Back in a jiff," Rick rose, took a swig of his beer and left it on the table as he strode away. 

"So, mastermind, what's our plan?" Dré asked. 

"Nasir sent me every detail we could want," Greg pulled out his phone. "We have his parents' address and detailed directions, complete with every landmark, on how to get there from our hotel. We have a list of every vehicle the family has, including license plate numbers. He even included a physical description of each member of the family and household staff. His brother sounds almost handsome, actually. Though he seems like a real tosser. Nasir said to especially look out for him." 

"We have good intelligence, then," Dré gave an approving nod. 

"We'll just have to take shifts watching the house until we see him come out," Greg gave a shrug. "We'll follow him and try to make contact someplace." 

"I think we should get a cell phone with a local number when we get there. We can slip it to him and then Nasir can call him and talk to him directly," Vince spoke up. 

"Good thinking, Peaches," Dré nodded. 

"That is an excellent idea, mate," Greg agreed. Rick returned at that moment with two more plates laden with food for their small table.

"What did I miss?" Rick asked as he sat down. 

"Just going over our plan," Greg answered as he snatched up a small finger sandwich. 

"My plan is to look sexy. And, oh look, it's working," Rick spread his arms with a grin. 

"Huh! Bone thin wanker," Dré rolled his eyes. 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. For those passengers joining British Airways flight one oh nine to Dubai, your aircraft will begin boarding at gate forty three momentarily," came the same female voice. 

"Ah, good. That's close by," Dré gave a nod. 

"Here we go, lads," Greg stood and slung his carry on bag over his shoulder. 

"Follow me," Dré just naturally took the lead in this familiar territory. It took two minutes to take the escalator down to the gate level and cross to their gate. In only another five minutes, they were walking down the jetbridge. They stepped aboard the Boeing 777 through a forward door where they were clearly between First and Club World. 

"Good evening, gentlemen," an attractive, smiling cabin steward with an all but shaved head greeted them. Dré said nothing while he handed over his boarding pass. The steward looked at it and then back at them with a renewed smile. 

"Are you gentlemen traveling together?" he did not wait for an answer. "Your seats are right through here," he gestured. 

"Thank you," Greg was polite enough to answer. Dré walked into the club section and looked for their seats. He was instantly less than amused. 

"Jesus, Goyle! These seats are in the middle and face bloody backwards!" Dré stopped in his tracks. 

"Don't yell at him. I assigned the seats," Rick spoke up. "Look around you, Dré. Only the two center seats are two together. Every other seat in this cabin is a single. Did you want to sit with Vince?"

"It's fine then," Vince stated as he pulled their carry on bag to their assigned seats. It was extremely rare for Vince to voice a contradiction to his partner, but on those occasions there was a very good reason for it, and Dré always listened. Vince alone, among the population of the Earth, had this power. "Come sit down, Duck." 

"Look at it this way," Rick could not help himself. "You'll be backing up all the way to the Middle East, and your backside is, after all, your best feature." 

"Bugger off, Diggory!" Dré barked from his seat. Rick snickered himself all the way into his. In the next row he and Greg had the two seats together. 

"You're pushing him," Greg warned. 

"Isn't it great fun?" Rick began to fiddle with his seat and light controls. 

"Oh sure it is. And when he has a classic Dré meltdown and takes this aircraft with him, that'll be fun too. I'll just tell all the other people in this cabin that they have you to thank when that happens, shall I?" Greg was flip. Rick only snickered further. He opened every small storage compartment on his side to see what was in them. The luxury wash bag with flight socks, eye mask and Elemis Spa in flight skin care products was of particular interest. 

"What's the possibility you could stop fidgeting like a five year old?" Greg asked. 

"Blimey, I should have married you way back when. We sound like an old married couple," Rick commented. 

Greg gave a sigh and leaned his head back against his seat. "Knob," he muttered. 

"Seriously, do you nag Viktor this way? I really want to know," Rick pressed. Greg could tell that his friend was teasing. 

"No, it's just you. There's just something about you that brings out the best in people, Rick my old mate," Greg nodded convincingly. 

The cabin steward with the nearly shaved head brought a tray with two flutes of champagne which he offered to Dré and Vince. "Champagne, gentlemen? I'm Adam. You need anything at all, just let me know," he smiled warmly. 

"Thank you," Dré acknowledged while his partner plucked both glasses from the tray. Vince handed one to his lover, clinked glasses with him, and they both took a sip. 

"Gentlemen," Adam appeared in row eleven with two more glasses on his tray. "I'm Adam. I'll be looking after you during our flight. Champagne?" 

"Oh, lovely," Greg took a flute. 

"Cheers," Rick took the other. 

"It's a pleasure to have you gentlemen aboard. Are you traveling on holiday with the other couple?" Adam asked. 

"The other? Oh, yes. Yes we are," Rick beamed. He took Greg's hand. "I'm Rick, and this is my guy, Greg." 

Adam ignored Greg's pointed stare at his supposed partner. "Anything you gentlemen need at all, don't hesitate to ask," Adam paused for one further smile and then headed off to greet other passengers. 

"Now you've made him think we're a couple," Greg observed. 

"For the duration of this trip, we are," Rick stated. 

"Just don't think you're getting into my pants. That ship sailed over seven years ago," Greg sipped his champagne. 

"And when you see me cracking one out, as inevitably you will, try to keep your lips to yourself," Rick returned. 

"I'll see if I can't somehow manage it," Greg was flip. The lights in the cabin gave the slightest flicker as the aircraft switched over to it's own power. In another moment they felt the big jet give a shudder as it was pushed from the gate. 

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. This is Byron Stewart, your Chief Flight Attendant, on behalf of Captain Corbin Chalmers, welcome aboard British Airways flight one oh nine, nonstop Boeing triple seven service to Dubai. Our anticipated flying time tonight is six hours, fifty five minutes. At this time we ask that all seat backs and tray tables be placed in their full upright and locked position in preparation for departure. Please don't hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do to make your flight to the United Arab Emirates more enjoyable. Please give attention to your monitors for our short safety video," came the announcement. The usual seatbelt, seat cushion, oxygen and exit door video popped up on all their monitors. 

"I will need to collect your glasses, gentlemen," Adam smiled at them. Rick and Greg relinquished their flutes, but not before Rick quickly downed what remained in his. 

"Well, we're off then," Rick mused. 

"Did you ever think we would head off to the Middle East to save a gay brother we've never even met?" Greg asked as the plane bumped along on it's taxi to the runway. 

"Humanitarians, we are," Rick concluded. 

"That we are, mate," Greg agreed. 

"Gaymanitarians," Rick made a new word with a chuckle. 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," came another voice. "This is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard from the Flight Deck. We anticipate a smooth flight when we reach our cruising altitude of thirty seven thousand feet, and will endeavor to turn off the fasten seatbelt sign as soon as possible, allowing you to move freely about the cabin. At this time we are number two for departure and will be taking the runway in just a few moments. Flight Attendants, doors to Departure and cross check." 

"What's Vik doing now, do you suppose?" Rick asked.

"Getting ready for bed about now, I imagine. Arséne has them on the training pitch at the crack of dawn during camp. And if they want something to eat, they best get up even earlier," Greg explained. They heard an even bigger jumbojet roar off down the runway ahead of them before their aircraft took position. After only a short pause the two great turbofans of their jet gave full thrust and the 777 lumbered down the runway. She soon picked up speed and took to the air. Greg let his head rest back against his seat and closed his eyes. 

"Please, are you going to go right to sleep? It's just like that time we flew to New York," Rick complained. 

"You know how it is, mate. If I'm not driving...," Greg shifted his shoulders to get more comfortable. 

"Greg, Rick, will you be dining with us this evening?" Adam asked as he appeared before them again. 

"Yes, please," Rick answered. 

"Here are your menus," Adam handed them over. "And can I bring you something else to drink after I so rudely snatched away your champagne?"

"I'd love a nice cold beer, actually. What about you, Sweetums?" Rick looked to Greg with fluttering lashes. 

"I'll have the same," Greg answered while giving Rick a flat stare. Rick could not hold back his snicker as Adam walked away. 

"You think you're very funny," Greg concluded. 

"That you don't is the really funny part," Rick smiled. 

"Next you'll call me pooky bear," Greg shook his head. 

"Oh, I might just," Rick nodded. 

"Read your menu," Greg instructed. Rick took a few moments to do so and Adam returned with two frosty cold bottles of beer.

"Here we are. Glasses?" Adam asked. 

"Not at all. Thank you," Greg accepted his and took a hearty gulp. 

"Have we decided on dinner?" Adam asked. 

"The salmon, I think," Greg answered. 

"Ah, make that two," Rick smiled. 

"Full English in the morning?" Adam queried further. 

"Of course," Greg readily agreed. 

Dinner was served with two fresh beers half an hour later. Ahead of them in the plane, but behind them as they sat, Dré and Vince continued to drink wine, though the thinner man had switched to white. After dinner Greg pulled out his travel sized chess set and placed the board on Rick's table. 

"Fancy losing a game of chess, do you?" Rick asked. 

"Is that what you think will happen? Set up the board. I need to run to the loo," Greg handed the box to Rick and rose from his seat. He noticed that Dré and Vince had settled in to watch a movie. Dré had shed his suit jacket finally, but in only a polo, had a blanket wrapped loosely around him for warmth. Greg knew their slight friend would much rather have his partner for warmth, but that was not possible in these seats. Still Vince held his lover's hand atop the small arm rest table between their seats as they watched. 

In Club World there was not continuous hand and foot service like there was in First. There was however, the Club Kitchen, stocked with all manner of food and beverages, available to Club World passengers throughout the flight. This was where Greg found Vince when he emerged from the bathroom. 

"Hey, Vince. Enjoying the flight?" Greg asked. 

"Oh, yeah, very nice," Vince answered as he poured. "Dré just wanted another glass of wine. Thought I might nick a snack as well," he piled a plate with chocolate truffles and petit fours. 

"Those do look good," Greg nodded. 

"They are. I already had one," Vince picked up the two wine glasses, cradling them in the fingers of one hand, and the plate of goodies which he offered to Greg. Greg popped a truffle into his mouth and hummed his approval as Vince walked ahead of him. Rick had the chess board all set up when Greg made it back to their seats. 

"Oh, hey, another beer?" Greg asked before he sat down. 

"Oh, yeah, thanks," Rick agreed. Greg found them readily available in the Club Kitchen and returned with two fresh cold ones. Greg made a point to turn the board around so that Rick had the white side and could go first. Three games later Rick gave up his 'two out of three' protests. 

"Bloody hell, Greg!" Rick set his king on it's side in capitulation as he could see another check mate was unavoidable. "A ringer you are." 

"Sorry," Greg gave a big yawn. Adam passed through the cabin and noticed this. 

"Shall I bring your quilts and pillows, gentlemen?" Adam enquired. "Your friends turned in a bit ago." 

"What do you say, Pooky Bear? Ready to turn in?" Rick asked with a smile. 

"Quite," Greg agreed. "You been savin' that," he added after Adam went to fetch their bed clothes. 

"Quite," Rick said it in the same tone Greg used. 

"Here we are," Adam handed the quilts and pillows to Greg as Rick packed up the chess set. "Pleasant dreams." 

"There you go," Rick handed the packed box back to Greg. "I just need to see a man about a dog. Back in a tick," he rose and headed forward. Dré and Vince were asleep in their beds. Dré lay on his back as close to the near edge as possible and Vince lay on his side facing his lover. Vince's hand lay on Dré's chest and the thin man held it. It brought a smile to Rick's face as he passed through the Club Kitchen. Adam intercepted him by the lavatories. 

"Looking for something, Rick?" Adam stepped up entirely too close to Rick and looked deeply into the equally tall man's eyes. 

"As it happens, I'm not, Adam, but you very much make me wish I were," Rick answered honestly. 

"I'll leave you about your business then," Adam stepped back out of Rick's personal space. Rick reached for the bathroom door and turned back. 

"Hang on a minute. How do you know we're not together?" Rick asked. 

"I can tell you're having me on. Don't know if it's your friend's idea or yours, but I can tell," Adam answered. 

"How can you tell?" Rick asked. 

"Pooky Bear? Really?" Adam raised his eyebrows. 

"Too much?" Rick asked. 

"Just a little," Adam looked askance. Rick only snickered and headed into the loo to take a piss. Greg had put both seats down into flat beds, placed the pillows and spread out both quits by the time Rick returned. 

"Adam figured us out," Rick admitted as he climbed into his own bed. 

"You did lay it on a bit thick," Greg settled in himself. 

"I did, at that. You know, Dré's adorable when he's asleep," Rick observed. 

"Be sure and tell him that," Greg sighed. "Be still now. Let's get a few hours of sleep." 

"Yes, dear," Rick found himself very amusing. 

Dré woke in the morning to gentle lips softly caressing his. "Mmm," he murmured as the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. Dré parted his lips without opening his eyes and ran his tongue along the lip that captured his bottom one. This is how he liked to wake up. And his lover knew it. Dré opened his eyes and put a hand to the side of Vince's face. 

"Morning, Peach," Dré looked into his lover's eyes. 

"Morning, sexy boy," Vince gave him another loving kiss and sat up. 

"Morning, gentlemen," Adam was nearby and had witnessed their intimate moment with a smile. "Ready for breakfast?" 

"Yes, please," Vince answered. 

"Oh, I need my tea first," Dré leaned up on his elbows. "Christ, are we still flying? This might be the longest flight we've ever taken."

"The flight to New York was just as long," Vince informed. 

"Was it?" Dré shook his head. Vince reached over and ran a finger down his lover's throat and into his open polo shirt as far as he could. This brought a smile to the thin man's face. 

"Is my guy randy this morning?" Dré asked. 

"Every morning. Me body aches to feel you against me. Expect me to rip your clothes off when we get to our hotel room," Vince informed. 

"Sounds good to me. Fancy fucking my face or my arse?" Dré licked his lips. 

"Yes, please," Vince smiled. Dré laughed. 

"Start one way and finish the other, and I don't care which," Dré tilted his head. "Unbutton that shirt," he commanded. Vince did as he was told. The top two buttons of his shirt were already open. He unbuttoned a third, then a fourth, and a fifth. Dré watched most attentively as Vince opened his shirt and ran his fingers slowly through his chest hair. 

"God, you are so hot," Dré bit his bottom lip. "The things I want to do to you right now," he shook his head. 

"Yes, please," Vince echoed his earlier sentiment with another smile. 

"Shall I make your seats up, gentlemen?" Adam asked as he intruded again. "Some coffee or tea before breakfast?" 

"Coffee for him. Tea for me," Dré answered. He sat up as Adam gave a nod and withdrew. "Are the others up?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen them," Vince answered. 

"If they're not, they're about to be," Dré slid down and climbed out of his bed. 

Not all the cabin lights were up and only a few of the window shades had yet been raised. Greg and Rick slumbered peacefully side by side in their twin beds when their slim friend came around from behind. 

"Oy, get up, you lot!" Dré delivered a kick to the foot of each bed. 

"Oh my God, Dré," Greg moaned. "Is it morning already?" he rubbed his face. 

"Are we there yet?" Rick asked. 

"Very nearly. You two probably nattered the night away. C'mon, then. Everybody up," Dré dictated. 

"Do us a favor, Greg. Don't let's tell them our room number when we check in," Rick suggested. 

"I do think I hear Vince calling you, Dré, mate," Greg added. The thin man delivered another kick to each bed for good measure and returned to his seat where his lover and his tea awaited him. 

"They up?" Vince asked. 

"They are now," Dré was quite pleased with himself as he seated himself comfortably. In short order a full English breakfast was served that Dré ate the half of. Vince helped his thin partner finish his breakfast as he often did. Vince had a hearty enough appetite for the two of them. Even as the dishes of their meal were cleared away, they felt the big aircraft begin to give up altitude as they began their initial approach to Dubai. Like many others in the cabin, they went to the lavatory to freshen up and brush their teeth. They noticed women change into more modest clothes and head scarves or hijabs, and men emerge from the bathrooms suddenly attired in white dishdashas and ghutras. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We have begun our final descent into Dubai. I have illuminated the fasten seat belt sign. Please remain seated for the duration of our flight. Thank you," came the announcement. The crew made multiple trips up and down the aisles as they busily made the cabin ready for arrival. Dré and Vince both clicked their seat belts into place. 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Byron picked up with his spiel. "We ask that all seat backs and tray tables be returned to their full upright and locked position in preparation for landing. Any carry on items that you may have got out during the flight need to be placed back in the overhead compartment or beneath the seat in front of you. Please let us know if you need any assistance in so doing. We will be landing shortly."

In the center of the aircraft they had no way of knowing how close to the ground they were. They only knew the big plane banked gently in a long arc and evened out again. Just when it seemed that they would never reach the ground, they were all but startled by the wheels hitting the runway. The nose came down in another moment and the giant turbofans reversed thrust. They felt the additional power of the brakes slow them even further. Eventually, at a quick taxi pace, the 777 turned off the runway. 

 

"This is your First Officer speaking. From the Flight Deck, welcome to the Emirate of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. Local time is oh eight thirty two. Flight Attendants, doors to Arrival and cross check," came the heretofore unheard voice. 

 

"Please remain seated with your seatbelts securely fastened until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the gate," Byron did not miss a beat. "This is the terminating point of British Airways flight one oh nine. British Airways hopes you enjoy your stay in the United Arab Emirates, or wherever your travels take you."

"Here we are, sir," Adam walked up and handed Dré his suit jacket. 

"Right, thank you," Dré placed it in his lap and for the first time that morning found it remarkable that he had not needed it for warmth. He took Vince's hand as they both relaxed for the duration of the long taxi to their gate. A few minutes later the big jet came at last to a halt. Passengers did not hesitate to rise from their seats and gather their belongings. Dré put his suit jacket on as it was just a more convenient way to carry it. Soon the door was opened and they followed other passengers as they all funneled through the jetbridge and into the impressive airport. The Emiratis in their native dress were easy to follow through the airport. They had to stop doing that when they came to passport control as they had to head for the line for foreigners. They declared their visit was for tourism, obtained their stamps and headed through to baggage claim. 

"I should call Vik," Greg pulled out his phone as they rolled up to their baggage belt. 

"Will he be up?" Rick asked. 

"Oh, yeah, but I won't get him. He'll be on the training pitch by now," Greg raised the phone to his ear. "I'll just leave him a quick message to let him know we got here just fine."

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Mist hung over the early morning field in Bad Waltersdorf in the mountains of Southeast Austria. Their chartered plane had landed in Graz and it had taken the subsequent buses not an hour to reach the tiny mineral spring spa town near to the border with Hungary. Arséne stood on the field this morning with two other coaches talking with Cesc. The coaching staff all wore their gray sweatshirts and black shorts. All the Gunners wore their uniform track jackets and shorts. Viktor stood talking with the two Muslims on the team, Samir and Marouane. Though neither of them had been to any Gulf State, Viktor, nevertheless, had a dozen questions for them. When the cell that rested atop his nearby bag rang, seeing as the leaders had yet to get their act together this misty morning, Viktor dashed for it. 

"Grigor!" Viktor recognized his mate's ringtone. 

"Vik, I didn't think I would get you," Greg was surprised to hear his partner's voice. 

"They talk, talk for twenty minutes, more. We not do nothing. Where are you?" Viktor asked. 

"We landed in Dubai a bit ago. Did the passport thing and waiting for the bags just now," Greg informed. 

"Ah, good, good," Viktor nodded to himself. "Was good flight?" 

"As well as could be hoped without you by my side. Tonight, in a regular bed, will be worse," Greg confessed. 

"I know. I not like sleeping apart from you also," Viktor agreed. 

"Mr. Krum, turn off that mobile and put it away," Arséne dictated from the pitch behind Viktor. 

"They call me now," Viktor stated. 

"Okay. I just wanted to let you know that we landed safely and that I love you and miss you already," Greg stated. 

"Tay obicham, Slunchitze," Viktor said and hung up. 

Greg could not help the smile that covered his face as he lowered his cell. 

"I thought you said he would be training?" Dré demanded. 

"Not as yet this morning, evidently. I'll just check in with Lune and Lene now," Greg scrolled to another number. Vince and Rick hefted their bags from the belt while Greg spoke with his daughter and Luna, and Dré watched. 

"Now we just have Customs. Come along, Goyle," Dré called. Greg quickly finished his conversation and followed. Customs was even easier than Immigration as the officer took one look at them and said not a single word as he waved them through. 

"The hotel car should be meeting us just now," Rick informed as he led the way through the Customs doors. A blonde European man in short sleeved uniform shirt and white shorts held a sign with the hotel name and in large hand written letters, Rick's last name. 

"Ah, that was easy. Hello," Rick called. "I'm Cedric Diggory," he walked up to the hotel driver. 

"Mr. Diggory, welcome to Dubai. My name is Jaan. This is all your party?" he asked in Scandinavian accented English. 

"This is us," Rick confirmed. 

"Right this way. The car is right at the curb," Jaan carried his sign across the arrivals area and through the doors outside. The flash of heat as they stepped out of the aircraft into the jetbridge did not prepare them for the all embracing furnace that was the not quite ten AM air of the UAE. 

"Bloody hell!" Dré made quick work of shedding his jacket. 

"This is hot," Greg agreed. Jaan led them to a white Lexus LX470. He started the car and put the air on before loading their luggage in the back. Dré and Vince took the third row seats while Greg and Rick sat in the back seat. Once behind the wheel, Jaan produced only slightly thawed frozen wet towels and a bottle of very cold Evian for each of them. 

"Wow. Thanks," Greg happily accepted his towel and cold water. 

"I'll say. This is service. Well done, Diggory," Dré endorsed. Vince pressed his rapidly thawing towel to his face a brief moment. Then he folded it up into a strip and placed it on the back of his lover's neck. 

"Oh, that's ever so nice," Dré leaned his head forward and closed his eyes while he rested his hand on Vince's thigh. 

"I'll have you gentlemen to the hotel in five minutes," Jaan put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from the curb. 

"Blimey. Check that out, mates," Greg gestured when he caught sight of the tower. 

"Amazing seeing it in person," Rick agreed. 

"Ah, that's the Burj al Khalifa, the tallest building in the world," Jaan informed. 

"Why did I think it was called the Burj al Dubai?" Dré mused aloud. 

"It was," Greg confirmed. 

"The tower was renamed in honor of President His Highness Sheikh Khalifa al Nahyan when he bailed Prime Minister His Highness Sheikh Mohammed al Maktoum, the Emir of Dubai, out of his financial crisis," Jaan explained. 

"To the tune of billions of pounds," Greg added. 

"I'd want a tower named after me too," Dré concluded. 

The Radisson Blu Dubai Creek was a ten story building in the business sector, directly fronting onto the creek itself, with excellent views from upper floors of the old historic city center on the other side. Jaan drove up under the porte cochere and both a bellman and doorman advanced on the SUV. The travellers quickly made their way into the air conditioned hotel and turned right to the private Royal Club reception desk. Greg paid for both the rooms as he was keeping track of their expenses. Their room keys were handed over to the bellman and they followed him to the elevators. On the top floor with creek views, a room with a king bed and a room with two queen beds were side by side. If the bellman thought anything about escorting Dré and Vince into a room with one bed, he did not show it. 

"I could certainly do with a bloody shower," Dré pulled at his polo as he stepped into his room. Just as quickly he dashed back into the hall. "Oy, you lot. We're going to take a shower just now." 

"Oh, sterling idea, Dré, mate," Greg agreed from the doorway of the adjacent room. 

"You go first, Greg," Rick said as he walked past into their room. 

"Right. You blokes just come over and rap on the door when you're ready, right?" Greg bid. 

"Righto," Dré agreed while Vince tipped the bellman. Dré disappeared into the room and let the door shut behind him. 

The club level rooms were spacious enough to easily be considered junior suites. There was ample space for a desk with two chairs and even a sitting area with a love seat and two upholstered chairs around a low coffee table, in addition to the two queen sized beds. A private balcony overlooked the creek with a view even to the Gulf that might have been inviting were it not so beastly hot. Rick snatched up the television remote and flopped down on one of the beds. Greg unbuttoned and shed his shirt and dropped it on the other bed. 

"I could do with a shower too," Greg commented as he unzipped and dropped his jeans. Even if these two men had not a history of intimacy between them, they were old school chums and had on many an occasion seen each other naked. 

"Go ahead. I'm just going to familiarize myself with the telly," Rick flipped away. Greg just shook his head, dug his toiletries out of his bag and headed for the bathroom. 

The spacious club lounge just down the hall on the tenth floor had a panoramic view of the creek and the historic old city on the other side. There was a concierge stationed at a small desk within. A modestly dressed Indian woman in a smart business suit and skirt with long jet black hair greeted Greg with a smile when he walked in. The remains of the breakfast buffet had been cleared away. The bar was only open during the evening cocktail hours when hot hors d'oeuvres were served. Lighter snacks of chips and pretzels were available all day along with soft drinks, bottles of Evian and a giant bowl of ice. 

"Good morning, sir. I'm Tisya, your concierge. Is there anything I can do to assist you?" she asked with a very white smile. 

"Hello there. I'm Greg Goyle from ten fourteen. I wonder if you could assist me in arranging a car. Two, actually," Greg sat down in one of the two chairs before her desk. He wore camo cargo shorts and a white tee shirt. 

"I would be happy to assist you with your cars, Mr. Goyle. Did you have any particular needs or desires in the the vehicles?" Tisya asked. 

"A Mercedes," Dré dictated from behind Greg as he and his equally freshly showered partner strode into the lounge. Both men wore tan capri shorts and black tee shirts. 

"Dré," Greg began to protest. 

"We want something that belongs in that neighborhood. Think about it. You know I'm right," Dré sat down at a nearby table. 

"Alright. You do have a point," Greg gave a nod. He turned back to the concierge, "Not something crazy expensive. An E class perhaps. And an equivalent BMW for me mates. Give me your driver license, Dré," he bid as he pulled his own from his wallet. 

"Good Christ, no. I'm not driving here on the wrong bloody side of the road," Dré announced. Vince stood nearby at the refreshments table sticking bottles of Evian and small bags of pretzels and chips into a ready backpack that he carried for just this purpose. He produced his wallet and handed it to his lover without a word. Dré then extracted his partner's license from the wallet and handed it to Greg. 

Rick wandered in, sexy in board shorts and a tight white tank top, "Don't you lot know it's hot here?" He walked to the refreshments table while the others ignored him. Like a proper tourist, Rick wore an expensive camera on a strap round his neck. "You chaps have your camera?" he asked as he picked up a small bag of pretzels for himself. In answer Vince only held up his backpack. 

Tisya printed the rental agreements for Greg to sign. While he was the renter of both vehicles, Vince was assigned as a supplemental driver for the BMW 5 series. 

"There you are, Mr. Goyle. Just give these tickets to the valet and they will pull your cars right up to the doors for you," Tisya finished by handing over two valet tickets and copies of the rental agreements for both cars. 

"Oh, one other thing," Greg continued. "I need a cell phone with a local number. It can be prepaid or whatever. Just a cheap phone. Shall I leave you a credit card?" 

"Not at all, Mr. Goyle," Tisya smiled. "I can have it placed on your room. It will take me until this afternoon, however." 

"That would be just fine. Thank you so much," Greg tipped the concierge, gathered up his papers and stood. "Shall we, men?" 

It was not yet noon when they stepped out into the well over a hundred degree day. 

"Blimey," Dré exclaimed as the blast of heat hit him in the face. Greg handed the ticket for the Mercedes to the valet and the second ticket to Vince. 

"Let's all go together in one car on this trip, right?" Greg suggested. 

"A little reconnaissance? Get the lay of the land?" Dré considered. "Good thinking, Goyle."

A bronze colored Mercedes Benz E 350 drove up and stopped before them. Greg tipped the valet and took the wheel. Rick sat beside him, Dré sat behind Greg, and Vince sat beside his lover. Greg handed his phone, with all the notes from Nasir, to Rick so that he could navigate as Greg drove them out of the hotel. It was a quick and easy drive up Baniyas Road, to the main Sheikh Zayed Road, where they headed North out of the city of Dubai. They passed the airport and soon saw the sign indicating that they were leaving the Emirate of Dubai and entering the Emirate of Sharjah. The ever present sand, where there was not a building or manicured lawn, was a constant reminder of where they were. Over a mile away they could see the tall ferris wheel in Al Qasba Park. 

"Oh, they call this the Eye of the Emirates. Fancy that?" Greg commented as they drove by. 

"Huh. They've never seen an Eye," Dré scoffed. 

"I think this might be our road up here, mates," Greg observed. Beyond the park they could see the tall and ornate twin minarets of an impressive mosque.

"Nasir sent a picture," Rick called it up on Greg's phone. "Is this Al Khan Road?" 

"There's a sign up here," Greg squinted. "It is." 

"And that is definitely our mosque," Rick held up the phone displaying a picture of what was clearly the same building. 

"Nearly there, then," Greg turned left onto al Khan Road and drove them into the Al Khaledia suburb of the city of Sharjah. 

"What a beautiful building. Much nicer than the one on Regent's Park," Dré commented. 

"Bigger too," Vince added as he squeezed the hand he held in the backseat of the comfortable car. 

"It is a beautiful mosque. And much bigger than the Central London Mosque. Bait ul Futuh Mosque in Southwest London is the biggest mosque in all of Western Europe. It's nowhere near as pretty or big as this one just here is," Greg informed as they left Al Huda behind. 

"How do you know that?" Dré challenged.

"We have access to news and information at the BBC, mate," Greg stated what virtually everyone on the planet well knew. Vince smiled at his lover as Dré rolled his eyes. 

"Around this corner and it should be just down at the end," Rick navigated. 

They were armed with good intelligence, but Nasir's information was incomplete. They didn't know to be on the lookout for the ivory Aston Martin Rapide that drove right past them as they turned onto the final street, because Nasir knew nothing about it.

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

If Rania al Qasimi felt in any way a part of her new husband's family it was entirely due to Zahara al Qasimi. Her father-in-law always had a smile for her when he saw her, but did not interact with her in any way. She could count on one hand the number of words they had exchanged since she had married his son. That, of course, was not out of the ordinary and no less than she expected. Her mother-in-law was very kind to her. Zahara made every effort to include Rania in everything she did and every household decision she made. The two women often went out together. Rania had held a distraught Zahara's hand all the way when Vijay had driven them over to see Adelah and Dimah al Gargawi. That had been an episode she might rather not have been a part of. 

Rania felt very much for her sweet sister-in-law and grew afraid of her husband when the whole house heard him shout at Samira. Rania had cried with Zahara when Omar slapped his daughter in the face with enough force to knock her out of her chair. She was afraid for Samira when Omar commanded his son to take his sister home to her husband in London enroute to retrieve his brother from the United States. Samira wiped her face and hugged her, and told her not to be afraid for her. Sadiq was a good man and loved her and would never mistreat her. In fact she was certain that when her husband learned that her father had struck her, he would be so furious over it that she might never be allowed to see them again. 

Kasim was in such a pique of anger that he did not even say goodbye to her when he and Samira left that night for London. And when he returned from his apparently failed trip to retrieve his brother from America, he fucked her with rough, angry frustration. It was not pleasant, but she endured it as a good Emirati wife would. And Kasim was not always this way. Their wedding night had driven her to tears when Kasim took her virginity and fucked her three painful times. Nothing the mothers or other women had told her had prepared her for what it was really like. They had said it would be unpleasant and that she would not like it and they had been dead right. But they also said that it would get better and they had been right about that too. Kasim could, when the mood struck him and he took his time, be almost loving. They had slow, gentle sex for a good long while the very morning when Nasir was here and took Samira over to meet with Dimah. Kasim had even kissed her on that occasion. It was the first time and she found that she very much liked it when her husband kissed her. That had been a morning for other firsts as well. It was also the first time Kasim had made her take him in her mouth. She found that she did not like that at all, though he had been kind when she gagged on him. Kasim had told her that she did not have to take all of him, that he understood this was new to her, and that she would be able to do better with time. 

The shouting that filled the whole compound the morning Kasim returned empty handed had been all Omar. The Sheikh had gone to great lengths to come to terms with the other Sheikh and would have to start all over again now. Kasim assured his father that he had other tricks up his sleeve, that he was not finished with Nasir yet. Omar berated his eldest son anyway, about that and a number of other topics, including not making provision for his wife. One of the things Kasim had done that very day was to purchase the Aston Martin Rapide in which she rode even now. Kasim, as his father had pointed out for everyone to hear, needed a family car now that he was a family man. If he were to go someplace and take his wife, how could he do that in a little two seater Ferrari? She certainly could not sit next to him. Kasim found a car that he himself would like to drive. A sport sedan with cradling and very comfortable back seats. She had actually never ridden in it with her husband and made the mistake of telling him that she wished he would take her places. When Kasim asked why, she said that she didn't like the way Vijay looked at her, which was not at all true, but that is what came to the top of her head. She never imagined that Kasim would haul Vijay out of the bed he shared with his wife in the middle of the night and punch him in his face. Ashok alone was permitted to drive for her from that moment on and had the wheel of the Rapide as she headed off to meet her sister and their friends for lunch. She liked Ashok better anyway. Rania noticed that when he smiled it never reached his eyes. There was something about the sad young man that appealed to her motherly instincts. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Ashok saw the bronze E class Mercedes as it passed them on the street. He saw that it was driven by a white man, but thought nothing of it. His employer did business with men from all over the world and was not the only one on this street to do so. He didn't know what happened last night when Mr. Kasim had come in a crazed state to assault Vijay, but Sanjiv told him this morning that he alone was allowed to drive Ms. Rania. And he didn't mind that at all. Ms. Rania was kind to him and it got him out of the house. Since his partner had been killed, Pankaj's duties had been split among Vijay and himself. Until such time as Pankaj was replaced, though that would not take long, Sanjiv found himself with more work to do and that put him in ill humor. Pankaj might be easily replaced in the al Qasimi household, but not in Ashok's heart. Pankaj had worked for the al Qasimi home for more than the nearly six years since Ashok had joined them. The servants were like a family themselves and all of them cried the day Pankaj died. But none of them knew how close Ashok and Pankaj had been. None of them knew that Ashok lost his lover and life partner to the murderer's bullet. None of them knew that Ashok cried himself to sleep every night clutching Pankaj's pillow. No one was there when he pushed their beds apart and collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap. No one knew. No one could know. Ashok was all alone with his pain. There was no one to whom he could turn. 

Ashok drove his charge down into Dubai and then took the main desert road that led to the city of Al Ain on the border with Oman. An hour's drive out into the wasteland, a quarter of the way to Al Ain and well past the al Gargawi estate, finally brought them to the turn off for the Bab al Shams Desert Resort and Spa. An ultra luxurious Arabian fort oasis, Bab al Shams was nestled among the endless, shifting dunes. It was the home of, among other things, Masala, Rania and her friends' favorite Indian restaurant. He pulled up before the fortified front entrance and a uniformed doorman reached for the rear door. 

"I'll call you when I'm ready to leave, Ashok," Rania said in Arabic as her door was opened. 

"Okay, Missus. Have a nice lunch," Ashok bid with a little wave. 

"Thank you, Ashok," Rania paused to smile at him before she got out of the expensive car. The doorman closed the door and Ashok drove away to park in the big parking lot and wait. He was very glad to be driving this car. This car was far less painful. Pankaj had never driven it.


	3. Contact

Chapter 3: Contact 

 

They sat to lunch in the Fish Market seafood restaurant in their hotel. It was located right on the wharf with an excellent view of the creek. 

"I think we should have dinner on the dhow," Dré gestured out the window at the ship moored not a hundred feet down the quay. 

"Oh, that would be all right," Rick endorsed. 

"I don't see why not," Greg gave a yawn. "Damn. I don't know about you lot, but I could do with forty winks. I'm knackered." 

"That does sound good," Dré ran a hand up over his lover's shoulder. Vince only smiled at the thinner man. 

"To sleep, I mean, when I say winks," Greg clarified and shook his head at his blonde friend's smirk. "Now we know the lay of the land, we can take up our surveillance with both cars this afternoon." 

"It's good that street is not a dead end. We should just keep making a circle. It would be less likely to draw attention than driving back and forth on the same street," Rick outlined. 

"What are you, secretly with MI6?" Dré asked. 

"I could tell you, Dré, mate, but then I'd have to kill you," Rick gave a devilish smile. 

"Ave to come through me first," Vince put his arm around his partner. 

"All right. Let's head up for a snooze," Greg signed the meal to his room. "And try to get a few minutes shut eye, you two." 

Once in their room, Rick peeled his tank top off over his head and tossed it on a chair before he flopped down on his bed. Only then did he work his sandals off with his toes and let them fall to the floor. Greg stripped down to his underwear as he watched Rick put both hands behind his head. There was no denying that Rick was one of the sexiest men he had ever seen. The knowledge that he was completely immune to Rick's charms, when once he was totally under the man's spell, brought a smile to his face. Greg's love and desire were held entirely by a certain traffic stopping Gunner. He gave another yawn as he stretching out on his own bed. 

"Why are you bothering with underpants?" Rick asked. 

"I wouldn't do if Vik were here, but it's so bloody hot, my balls are sweating," Greg stated. "Free balling, I take it." 

"Always," Rick untied his board shorts and ripped the velcro fly open. He ran his right hand down inside the shorts to take hold of himself. "Mind if I have a wank?" 

"Save it 'till later?" Greg requested. 

"I suppose I can hold off," Rick ran his hand up to his lightly hairy chest and left his fly open. "Say, why is there an arrow on the ceiling?" 

"All hotels in the Middle East have them. It points toward Mecca," Greg informed. 

"Ah, right," Rick nodded. 

Next door Vince stripped to his tighty whiteys and laid down on his back. Dré climbed onto the bed, and his lover, in only his small bikini style underwear. 

"Mmm," Vince put his arms around the slight man and pulled him close as Dré's head came to rest on his chest. Dré closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting scent of his man. He ran his hand down Vince's furry body to cup the meaty package of his briefs. Dré slowly moved his fingers to gently fondle his lover and smiled when he felt the heavy cock respond. 

"If you wake him up, I will push your head down," Vince threatened. 

"Promise?" Dré teased. 

"Oh, count on it," Vince affirmed. 

"Will you fuck my face?" Dré asked. 

"I'll choke you with it," Vince stated. 

"I love when you do that!" Dré enthused. 

"I know you do," Vince ruffled the platinum hair. "Let's get a few winks now, Duck. We have all night to play. Maybe it'll even be cool enough to do it out on the balcony." 

"Not bloody likely, but okay. I'll just hold him right now," Dré agreed. 

"You do that," Vince sighed. 

"But if you get hard while you're asleep, don't be surprised if you wake up down my throat," Dré asserted. 

"Sounds good to me," Vince smiled. He rubbed his lover's thin bare back until they both fell asleep. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

When Ashok brought Miss Rania home that day, a most unpleasant surprise was waiting for him. He pulled up to the front door of the main house and jumped out to open the rear car door for her. Ashok parked the Rapide properly in it's bay in the big garage next to where Mr. Kasim's Ferrari would be parked when he came home with it. He made his way to the stairs up to the servant's quarters above the garage. He would have to change out of his white shirt and into the long dark blue coat that matched Sanjiv's to be ready to serve the men when they came home. Ashok was startled to find the door to the room he shared with his dead partner wide open. 

"What are you doing?!" Ashok demanded in Hindi of the invaders in his room. Sanjiv stood between the two beds. The one that had been Pankaj's was now piled with his clothing and all his worldly possessions. Vijay stood barechested beside the bed and pulled a shirt on over his head. 

"Those are Pankaj's things! What are you doing?!" Ashok demanded again. 

"Calm down, Ashok," Sanjiv admonished with a frown. "Why do you carry on like that?"

"These are Pankaj's things. Why is Vijay trying on Pankaj's clothes?!" Ashok fought to retain his composure. 

"Because Pankaj's clothes will fit Vijay. You can't wear them. Anyway, the master has ordered me to find a replacement for Pankaj, and I have. Kamlesh Shah will be here in a few days. Vijay will take what he wants and you will clean up this room and be ready for Kamlesh. It will only be a few more days that you will have to drive for the family. I will send you to the airport to pick him up when he gets here. Then all our lives can go back to normal," Sanjiv dictated and walked out of the room. Vijay said nothing as he scooped up a pile of clothes and walked out behind Sanjiv. 

Ashok sat down on his bed and fought tears. This is what his partner had been reduced to. A pile of clothes on an unused bed to be disposed of. Another man would come into this room, into his dead lover's bed. Then their lives would be back to normal? His wouldn't. His life would not be the same ever again. Ashok noticed that there were clothes not just from the closet, but drawers as well. He flew to the dresser to check on the one possession most dear to him in this world, now that Pankaj was gone. In the top drawer, under his clothes, it was there, safe and undisturbed. Ashok held the picture and remembered that day in the desert last year. 

Mr. Nasir had come home and brought friends from America. There were two white men and a third dark skinnned man with perfectly straight and very long jet black hair. The short dark man was an enigma. Neither he nor Pankaj could place his ethnic background. Ashok smiled as he remembered their night in the desert. The short man noticed that they had a camera with them and offered to take their picture. Then he proceeded to pose them with Pankaj sitting on the back lip of the open Mercedes G55, with his arms around Ashok who stood on the sand between his legs. It had been one of the happiest nights of Ashok's life. Pankaj made love to him in their tent that night and, while they could not be certain, they suspected the same was going on in the other tents as well. It was not unheard of for unmarried Arab men to sleep with each other, in fact it was almost common, when they weren't abroad indulging in prostitutes, but never did they prefer it over sex with a woman. Who then were these Americans? And why had the big one looked at Mr. Nasir the way he had? It had been the source of much speculation amongst the household staff last year. Ashok smiled to himself as he remembered how the big American had placed his beer close by Mr. Nasir's side and how Mr. Nasir had repeatedly snuck gulps of it. He and Pankaj thought that was very sweet and thoughtful and never said a word to anyone. Ashok's smile faded as he remembered more of that night. Something had been off between Mr. Nasir and his guests that night. He and Pankaj had not been sure if it was the security police joke or not. 

Ashok sat back down on his bed and just held the picture that he was so very grateful to have. It was the only picture of him and Pankaj ever taken. He loved how clearly in love the two men in the picture looked and knew how much they really had been. He loved that Pankaj had his arms around him in the picture, the way they fell asleep every night. 

 

\----- -----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

It was just dumb luck that they had been in the right place at the right time. Greg drove the Mercedes while Rick held his camera. Vince drove the BMW while his partner held the camera in their car. Vince had slowed down like they were searching for an address as the Aston Martin Rapide pulled up to the al Qasimi gate. Dré had ample opportunity to snap over a dozen shots while the expensive car paused for the big gate to roll aside. Vince drove slowly past as the ivory Rapide pulled into the compound. 

"Whose car is that, then?" Vince had asked. 

"No idea," Dré answered while he snapped away. 

 

\------------------------------------~---------------------------------

 

Rick placed his laptop on the small table as they gathered that evening in the concierge lounge on the tenth floor of their hotel for cocktail hour. 

"Ah, Mr. Goyle," Tisya called as she saw Greg walk into the lounge to join his friends. She produced a small cell phone and charger with a post-it note stuck to it from a desk drawer. "Here you are, sir. Phone with a local number, and I took the liberty of having it loaded with one hundred twenty minutes. That's the number just there," she smiled. 

"This is perfect. Thank you so much," Greg dug into his pocket to tip her again. He sat down with Rick and Dré as Rick inserted the card from Dré's camera into the laptop. 

"Let's just see what we have here," Rick clicked open the file. Vince returned to the table with four bottles of beer. 

"Oh, thanks, Vince. Cheers," Greg lifted his bottle and took a swig. 

"Fancy some hummus or something?" Vince asked. He did not wait for an answer and headed for the hors d'oeuvre buffet. 

"Looks like you got some good shots, Dré," Rick stated as they came up on the screen. 

"I do know how to use a camera, Diggory," Dré was dry. 

"Is that car on the list?" Greg leaned to see the screen. 

"That's an Aston Martin," Rick stated. 

"And no, it's not," Dré answered the question. 

"A visitor?" Greg mused. 

"Dunno," Rick clicked through the pictures. "Oh, you got a good one of the driver," he raised his eyebrows. "And that is a very cute Indian boy." 

"Yes, he is rather cute. Wonder if that's him? Well," Greg pulled out his phone. "Emmett did say to call anytime. I hope they're up." 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

On the West Coast of the United States, one of them was. Emmett was in the shower while his partner was still sound asleep in bed. Nasir lay on his stomach spread eagle in the center of the bed and covered to his waist by the sheet. The ringing of Emmett's phone woke him. It took a moment and a couple of rings for the significance of Emmett's cell ringing at this hour to penetrate his sleepy brain. When it did, Nasir rose up with a gasp. He scrambled across the bed and reached for the phone only to knock it off the bedside table and send it clattering across the floor. 

"Allah!" Nasir slid on his belly right out of the bed after the still ringing cell. "Hello!" he all but shouted into it when he finally answered and brought it to his face. 

"Nasir, that you?" Greg asked. 

"Greg! I thought it might be you. What is going on there? Did you see him?" Nasir fired his questions. 

"Not entirely sure, mate," Greg cocked his chin at Rick. "Email those off to Emmett and Nasir. Rick is sending along some pictures we took today. I hope we didn't get you up, Nasir." 

"I am not in bed," Nasir told the misleading truth. Emmett walked out of the bathroom naked and toweling his hair. He gave a chuckle when he saw his lover sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed and just peeking over it on the phone. 

"What are you doing over there on the floor?" Emmett asked. "Is that Greg?"

"It is," Nasir confirmed as he got up. "They might have seen Ashok. They are emailing some pictures." 

"Oh, good. See if it's him," Emmett bid as his partner all but ran out of the bedroom toward the office. Nasir flew to his desk and punched the power button on his computer. 

"Let me know when you have them so we can see the same thing at the same time," Greg bid. 

"My computer is booting up," Nasir tapped his thumb impatiently on his desk. It did not take thirty seconds, but it seemed at that moment like years. As quickly as he could Nasir clicked open his email. It seemed another eternity in the few seconds it took the pictures to load. "I have them! What car is that? I do not know that car. Who is this?" 

"We were rather hoping you could tell us," Greg stated. "The sixth or seventh picture is a good one of the driver. He fits your description of Ashok." 

"Yes! Greg, that is him! That is Ashok!" Nasir rose right up out of his chair in his excitement. "But what is that car?" he sat back down. "Is there a passenger in the back seat?" 

"That's definitely our boy. Do we have a shot of whoever was in the back?" Greg asked. 

"Of course," Dré leaned forward. "That one," he pointed at the screen. 

"Tenth one," Rick clicked it open. 

"Look at the tenth one, Nasir," Greg relayed. Nasir clicked open the picture and recognized the woman immediately. 

"That is Rania! That is my brother's wife," Nasir informed. "Kasim must have bought another car for her. Of course he did. I should have expected that."

"Okay, we know for sure who we are looking for and another car to put on the list. We'll keep an eye and try to make contact someplace," Greg summed up. 

"Greg, it will be easiest to make contact after he has dropped Rania wherever she might be going. You should have ample time once that happens. Do you have my letter?" Nasir asked. 

"Nasir, we've done one better," Greg handed Rick the slip of paper with the local cell number on it. "Email this off to Nasir too. Nasir, we've obtained a cell phone with a local number. Once we make contact we'll slip him the phone and you can call him. Rick is emailing the number now. We'll call you when we do so you can call him straight away." 

"Greg, you are brilliant. This is Emmett's number that you called, though. Do you have my cell number?" Nasir asked. 

"Oh, no. I don't, now you mention it," Greg admitted. 

"I have the second email. I will reply with my number," Nasir clicked and typed. "Greg, you are so close!"

"I know, mate," Greg agreed. 

"I am going to call the local phone to make sure I have it right," Nasir picked up his own cell and dialed. 

"Good idea, mate," Greg held the other cell in the palm of his hand and waited a moment. Then it lit up and rang, displaying a phone number from the United States. Greg answered it and spoke into both phones, "That's got it." He hung up the local phone and slipped it into his pocket. "Nasir, hopefully the next time we speak, it will be to tell you to call Ashok." 

"Inshallah that is very soon," Nasir agreed. 

"Cheers, Nasir. Big hug to Emmett, right?" Greg bid. 

"I will, Greg. To all of you as well," Nasir said and they both hung up. Emmett walked into the office at that moment. He had shaved and had his towel wrapped around his waist. 

"What's the news? Is it Ashok?" Emmett asked. 

"It is, Habibi, look," Nasir clicked open the pictures again. 

"Yeah, that's Ashok all right. Well, they found him. You think they'll be able to make contact without anyone knowing?" Emmett asked further. 

"I am sure of it. They only need to follow him. He is driving Rania here," Nasir pointed. 

"That's Kasim's wife, right?" Emmett queried. 

"She is," Nasir confirmed. 

"They are such good friends to do this," Emmett stated. 

"How can we ever repay them?" Nasir wondered aloud. He thought for a moment and let his eyes wander over his lover's expansive chest. "Greg said to give you a hug for him, but I don't think a hug is exactly what I want to give you right now." 

"Oh, no?" Emmett smiled. 

"You come in here all sexy in that towel. I have very naughty thoughts," Nasir ran his finger along the top of the towel over Emmett's hip. 

"And you're naked, so where do you think my thoughts are going?" Emmett asked. 

"I hope, the same place mine are," Nasir gave a sly smile. 

"I have to get ready for work, Nasi," Emmett moaned and turned to walk away. 

"I think perhaps, I should rub something on your face to make sure it is smooth," Nasir rose to follow. "Like my cock for instance." 

"Oh, yeah?" Emmett turned back around. 

"Yeah," Nasir took hold of his growing prick. "I made breakfast this morning." 

"Then sit back down, Babe," Emmett pushed Nasir back into his desk chair. He pulled off his towel and dropped it on the floor. Then he knelt between Nasir's legs and ran his hands up the darkly hairy thighs. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Dinner aboard the Al Mansour, a large wooden traditional dhow, was a festive event. Boarding began at eight, which Tisya reminded them of at seven fifty, and the dhow sailed at eight thirty. They had a table on the top deck in the open air which, as the sun set, turned out to be quite pleasant. Seating here meant that they had to go down to the lower deck to get to the food, but the view as the ship sailed the river and out into the Gulf was unparalleled. There were two buffets, Arabic and international. Both, as it turned out, had hit or miss dishes, but they all agreed that the lamb and chicken kebabs were the best they had ever eaten. The waiters all wore traditional Moroccan dress complete with red fez, and brought drinks from the full bar. 

After dinner they relaxed over cocktails and watched the city as their ship sailed back toward the creek and their hotel. 

"Who could have ever thought it would be so pleasant here at night?!" Dré observed. 

"It's very nice now the sun's gone down," Rick agreed. 

"I can't believe how much it's cooled off," Greg added. 

"Hey, there's a shisha lounge in the back. Who wants to go smoke a hookah with me?" Rick asked. 

"Jesus, Diggory, no wonder you're alone," Dré commented. The good natured smile of a man having a good time faded from Rick's face. He said nothing as he rose from the table and walked away. 

"That was a bit below the belt, Dré," Greg rose to follow their tall friend. 

"It's the truth!" Dré called after Greg. 

"Even so, Duck," Vince took his lover's hand.

"Well, he chooses to be this way," Dré defended. Vince said nothing more. He didn't need to. 

Rick went and smoked a hookah by himself. Or rather Greg sat with him while he did so. They met an American couple and Rick shared the ornate multi stemmed water pipe with them. It was clear they were having a very good time and feeling no pain. Their laughter was infectious and served to lift Rick's spirits somewhat. Once the ship docked at the quay at their hotel they headed for Marbles, the lobby bar. Rick headed to the bar and Vince went with him while Greg and Dré found a table.

"Rick," Vince put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "We all love you and want you to be happy. Dré has a hard time expressing that sometimes," he squeezed Rick's shoulder. 

"Forget it, Vince, mate," Rick patted his friend on the back. It was not the first time Vince had apologized for his partner and would no doubt not be the last. 

After only one round they all agreed, while it was not yet late, they were all ready to turn in. An hour's nap earlier in the day and only a couple hours the night before on the plane left them all in need of more. Once secure in their room Greg and Rick stripped naked, brushed their teeth, and climbed into their respective beds. 

"I suppose you could have that wank now," Greg settled into his bed on his back and brought the sheet to his chest. 

"Don't feel like it now," Rick also lay on his back and pulled his sheet only to his waist. He put his arms up over his head, deep in thought. "Dré's tongue is sharp as ever." 

"He didn't mean it the way it came out. You know how he is," Greg offered. 

"Thing is, he's right though," Rick admitted. "I am pretty pathetic, if you think about it. Really, I'm envious as all hell. I so want what you have with Viktor, Greg. What Dré and Vince have."

"You can have, mate. Just not with H," Greg could not have been more sorry and sounded it. 

"I want that with him," Rick choked up. "I love him."

"I know you do. And you very much deserve to be happy. But, Rick, H will never give you what you need. He just won't. It makes me very sad to say it, and even sadder to see it, and I am very, very sorry," Greg spoke what they both knew was the truth. 

In the next room, talking was the furthest thing from their minds. Only one lamp was on in the room and clothes were strewn about the floor having fallen where they were shed. It was fairly dark out on the private balcony that overlooked the creek. Dré sat on a towel on top of the table out on this balcony and leaned back on his elbows. Vince leaned over the table between his naked lover's wide spread legs. The platinum blonde's cock, like the rest of his body, was long and thin. Fully erect, the head of the pale snake fully shed it's hood. Vince held his lover's testicles in the palm of his hand while he teased the tall, quivering bone with his tongue.

"Ugh, Vin," Dré let his head fall back as his lover's tongue licked at his frenulum. Vince ran his free hand up the slender, nearly hairless body and took hold of Dré's right nipple. Dré liked when his lover sucked his cock and pinched his nipples. If only his lover would suck his cock. Sometimes the stronger man liked to torture him. 

"Oh, God, suck!" Dré put a hand to the back of his lover's head to push him down, but Vince resisted. 

"No," Vince watched his lover's face as he held the the thin man's nuts and licked away at the most sensitive place on the trembling cock. 

"Ugh," Dré entwined his fingers into his lover's short dark hair as best he could and pulled. But it was to no avail. "You're killing me," Dré dropped down flat on his back on the table. Vince enjoyed his control over his slight partner's body. Vince was happy to follow his partner's lead in most aspects of their lives. He was an easy going guy and was happy to do so, but when they got naked, he was in charge. And Dré would have it no other way. He loved that his man mastered him in the bedroom. Vince closed his lips over the head of his lover's snake only to slip them back off. 

"Hoh," Dré felt his lover's tongue return to his frenulum again. "God, Vin," Dré whimpered as the warm wet mouth slipped over his leaking head again. After which, inevitably, the sensual tongue continued to torture him. Vince left the trembling cock alone and moved up to latch his mouth onto Dré's left nipple. 

"Aah!" Dré cried out as his lover pinched his right nipple harder and teeth clamped down on his left one. Vince circled is tongue around the thin man's left nipple, gave a gentle lick across it, and ran his tongue across the slender chest to do the same to his right. He then moved back down Dré's body and took hold of the hairless balls again as he did so. Vince closed his mouth over the serpent's wet head and ran his tongue through the weeping eye. 

"Oh, please suck me!" Dré begged as Vince's lips slipped off his head and the sensual tongue took up it's caress of his frenulum yet again. "Ugh, huh," Dré moaned in frustration. He grabbed hold of his lover's head with both hands and tried with all his strength to shove Vince's head down. When that did not work he tried to hold Vince's head and thrust his hips upward the next time Vince slipped his lips over his head. Not more than an inch of dick jabbed up into Vince's mouth before the stronger man grabbed hold of both his lover's trim hips and held him down. 

"Oh my God, Peach! Are you wanting me to come like this?" Dré nearly whined as the unrelenting tongue continued to torture him. 

"No," Vince pulled his tongue back for the second it took to give his single syllable answer. 

"Ugh," Dré wrapped both his arms up over his face. "Because I will, you know. You know how good this feels," he protested. Dré was powerless against the stronger man and the tongue that remained in constant, maddening contact and motion against his frenulum. "Peach, please! I'm so close!" 

And Vince knew it. He knew this thin man's body better than anyone. He could tell by how the entire pale body trembled and how profusely Dré had begun to leak precum just how close to orgasm he had driven his lover. Vince did not have to look at or feel them to know the smooth stones were pulled up tight to the base of the tall, thin scepter. Indeed if he took hold of his lover's nuts now, it might just push him over the edge. And that was the last thing Vince wanted to do. Vince gave his squirming lover a momentary respite as he stood up and reached for Dré. He took hold of the thin man by the back of his neck and lifted him up into a sitting position. 

"You'll come, when I'm ready," Vince dictated and attacked Dré's mouth with his own. The blonde closed his eyes and whimpered into his lover's mouth as Vince's tongue invaded his. It thrilled Vince when he could make his partner weak in his arms with his kiss. It turned Dré on powerfully when his man was aggressive with him like this. He welcomed the strong tongue by meeting and caressing it with his own. Just as quickly as Vince began his assault on his lover's mouth, he ended it and gently laid Dré back down on the table. He lifted Dré's legs and slid him to the edge of the table. Vince then knelt down. He held Dré's legs up and spread his smooth, pale cheeks at the same time. Dré had hair under his arms and what little naturally grew on his legs. Otherwise his pubes were kept to a small, short strip above his penis and that was it. Dré was otherwise shaved clean between his legs and ass, just the way Vince liked it. It was too dark out on the balcony in the warm Arabian night for Vince to enjoy the sight of his lover's waiting, puckered hole, but he did not mind. He knew what his beautiful thin partner looked like. Vince leaned in and gave a broad lick through Dré's hairless crack. 

"Ugh," Dré moaned as his man's tongue washed over his hole. "Are you going to fuck me?"

"You'll soon see," Vince lapped at his lover's asshole. "Such a sweet little arse. How could I resist?"

"Ugh," Dré held his own legs with hands hooked behind his knees as the unrelenting tongue now focused on his most private place. Of course, there was no place private from Vince. Dré belonged to his partner body and soul. There was nothing that Vince took from him that was not freely given. And while Vince took over in the bedroom, he would never force or even ask his lover to do anything he did not wish to do. Vince's own cock, while ignored, throbbed almost painfully between his legs. He was so turned on by his skinny partner that his own precum ran all the way down his shaft to his balls. Vince could feel that Dré's hole had become relaxed and buried his face between the small cheeks to shove his tongue up his lover's ass as far as he could. 

"Huh!" Dré felt himself be impaled by the stronger man's tongue. "Yes, please," he all but whimpered and squeezed his eyes closed as the powerful tongue began to fuck him. "Jesus!" 

Vince pushed the skinny man's legs up even higher to give himself the greatest possible access to his goal. He covered Dré's smooth hole with his mouth while he probed as deeply inside his lover with his tongue as possible. Dré threw his head back and gave a low almost continuous moan as his lover tongue fucked him. Vince at last pulled his tongue out of Dré's body and gave the small right cheek a little nip. He lifted up enough to run his tongue over his lover's tight sac and up his twitching cock to the leaking tip. 

"Hoh!" Dré did not expect so much sudden, albeit momentary, stimulation to his dick. He watched Vince reach for a towel that he had placed on a chair earlier, only to see him extract a small bottle from beneath it. "What's that?"

"Baby oil," Vince answered with a smile. "The better to fuck you with, my sexy duck." 

"I like that gun oil one we have at home better," Dré told Vince what he already knew. 

"Fancy explaining that to Dubai customs," Vince chuckled. 

"Oh!" Dré laughed as well. "Really, Sir, we're only terrorists, not poofs!" 

"Right," Vince poured oil onto his hand and applied his oily fingers to Dré's already spit slick asscrack. He set the bottle on the table and bent down to run his tongue up his lover's quivering cock along his sensitive cum tube again. 

"Oh, no, Vin, don't do that," Dré urged. He put his hands on his lover's thick shoulders as he felt a finger slip inside him. "Umm," he closed his eyes as the finger sank as far as it could and touched his prostate. Vince looked up at his lover's face with a smile as he moved his index finger in and out of the relaxed hole. He gave the thin stalk another broad swipe with his tongue as he added a second finger inside Dré. He then concentrated his efforts on Dré's frenulum again while he rubbed the hard nub of his lover's prostate. 

"Vin! No, no!" Dré pushed at Vince's head. "It's too much. You have me too keyed up. I'll come!" 

Vince knew Dré spoke the truth. He reluctantly left his lover's beautiful penis alone, but only after he ran his tongue down to Dré's balls. Vince contented himself by lapping at the swollen eggs while he moved his fingers inside his lover's body. Dré moaned and squirmed on the table and Vince knew his man was ready. He picked up the oil again and poured a little onto his rock hard mast. The oil mixed with his own precum as he stroked himself and twisted his hand around his prick. Vince was very ready to be inside his partner's thin body as he lined himself up. First he brushed the head of his cock up and down over Dré's relaxed hole to tease them both.

"You ready for me to split your arse with this cock, boy?" Vince demanded. 

"Yes, Vin. Give it to me," Dré begged. 

"You'll get it alright," Vince pressed himself into Dré's hole gently until his head slipped inside the ring of muscle. They gave a gasp in unison. Vince was very nearly his lover's length, but twice as thick. And Dré loved every luscious inch of it inside him anywhere his man cared to put it. 

"More! Get inside me!" Dré pleaded. With that, Vince pulled himself out of Dré and caused the blonde to whimper. 

"Who's in charge, Duck?" Vince asked with his head again just up against his lover's hole. 

"You are, Vin. Please stick your wonderful cock in me and fuck me," Dré requested. 

"That's a good duck," Vince pressed himself forward again and this time when his head slipped inside the slim man's body, he didn't stop. He pushed several inches inside, pulled back some, and slid in further. 

"Ugh," Dré threw his head back as he was penetrated. 

"Shit," Vince cursed as the most of his length was slowly encased within his partner's body. "Christ, you feel so good," he ran his hand up and down Dré's thin legs. He brought Dré's right calf up to his face and kissed and licked at the sparse hair. Dré gave an animalistic grunt as his man was fully seated within him. 

"Vince, God! Fuck me!" Dré cried. And this time Vince could not refuse. He pulled back a little more than half way and sank back in with a loud moan of his own. There was little doubt, that while anyone in nearby rooms could not see them, they could certainly hear them. And both men were beyond caring. 

"Rrah!" Vince took hold of Dré's trim hips and shoved himself balls deep inside his lover. 

"Ugh! God!" Dré threw his arms out to his sides and rolled his head back and forth. He loved being impaled on his partner's cock. Vince pulled out a little more than half way again and began to thrust. This only caused the skewered man to moan the louder. Dré closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open as his lover pumped his dick into him. Vince bend his knees slightly to make sure he was at the right angle to brush Dré's prostate with each thrust. 

"Huh-ugh," Dré's own joint drooled clear syrup into his belly button until it over flowed. "Oh, Vin." 

"I love being inside you, Dré. You feel so fucking good," Vince increased the pace of his thrusts into the much thinner man. He pulled Dré's left calf to his face and this time he bit, but not hard enough to hurt his lover. Dré opened his eyes so he could see his lover's teeth clamped down on his leg, even as he felt it. He loved it when his lover did that. The sight of the strong, manly man fucking his ass with powerful thrusts coupled with how that felt, and now Vince's teeth on his skin, had Dré ready to blow. And he was not ready. 

"Vin, you're gonna make me come!" Dré cried out desperately. 

"Yeah, come for me, sexy boy," Vince encouraged and gave a lap up Dré's leg. 

"I don't want to come like this. Please," Dré pleaded, powerless against the ram that pounded into his ass and drove him inexorably toward orgasm. "You know how I like it best. Please, Vin. Please!" 

Vince could not possibly refuse the man he loved. He halted his thrusting and just held himself buried to the hilt inside his lover. He took hold of Dré by the back of his neck and lifted him into a sitting position. Dré instinctively wrapped his legs around Vince's waist and his arms around the stronger man's neck. 

"Grab the baby oil," Vince instructed. Dré snatched it up and rewrapped his arm around his lover's neck. Vince gripped his slight partner's little buns and lifted him easily off the table, still fully impaled on his cock. Dré closed his eyes and dropped his head back as Vince effortlessly carried him into the room. 

"God, I love it when you carry me on your cock like this," Dré confessed. 

"I do too, little duck," Vince leaned forward to kiss the thin man's exposed throat. The movement stimulated them both as he walked. Vince sat down on the bed and relinquished all control as he laid back and stretched out beneath his lover who was fully impaled on his spike. Dré leaned forward with both hands on Vince's meaty chest as he began to ride his man. Vince closed his eyes and relaxed a moment while his lover's tight ass moved up and down his straining post. Dré shifted his hips to maximize the pressure on his prostate from the hard mast that moved within him.

"Ugh," Dré closed his eyes as he increased his pace on his lover's pole. 

"Huh," Vince agreed. He opened his eyes and ran his hands up his thin lover's clearly visible ribs. "You make me feel so good inside you," Vince reached for the baby oil and snapped it open. He poured oil into his hand and applied it liberally to Dré's trembling cock. 

"Oh-ho, my God," Dré closed his eyes again as Vince just held his hand in place. The movement Dré himself made, as he moved up and down his lover's bone, drove his own dick through Vince's slick and nimble fingers. The stimulation to both cocks was thus perfectly synchronized. Vince took great care to keep his thumb in place on weeping serpent's frenulum. 

"Hoh," Dré whimpered as he dropped his head forward and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not slow down or change his pace as he rode his lover's thick cock. 

Vince looked up at his thin lover with unbridled lust in his eyes. As far as Vincent Crabbe was concerned, he was the luckiest man in the world. Draco Malfoy only grew hotter with each passing year. In many ways he still had the body of a teenager, but with an adult's keen mind. Dré was the smartest man Vince knew. And Dré desired and loved him. There was nothing Vince would not do for Dré. He loved Dré with all his being and his passion for the very thin man knew no bounds. The sight and sensation of the skinny man above him, impaled on his throbbing cock, with his face screwed up as he was driven rapidly toward orgasm again, from the fingers on his cock and the cock in his ass, had Vince very ready to bust his nut too. He knew Dré did not want to come quite like this, and Vince didn't want him to either. Vince relinquished his hold on the sweet joint and took hold of the almost bony hips. He began to buck up into his slight rider with force. 

"Hah," Dré was not prepared for this sudden onslaught and gripped his lover's hairy pecs tighter as the rod drove up into him. 

Vince sat up and wrapped his arms around his thin lover. Dré and Vince both contributed to bouncing the skinny, tight ass up and down on the stronger man's pole. 

"Hoh, God, yes," Dré cried as his own prick was trapped between their bodies. The baby oil slicked the hair on Vince's stomach and sternum, and again Dré's stimulation outmatched his lover's. Vince closed his eyes and pressed his face to Dré's exposed throat. Vince ran his tongue up over his lover's prominent Adam's apple and then closed his mouth around it. 

"Ugh!" Dré felt his lover's teeth clamp down on his throat. He felt Vince's strong arms tighten around his back to drive him up and down on his lover's hard spike faster. This only served to slide his profusely leaking joint where it was trapped between their bodies faster. The feel of the lithe body in his arms, in his mouth and on his cock, coupled with the dick he so loved sliding between them, drove Vince quickly toward orgasm. The closer Vince drew to the brink the harder his bone rubbed Dré's prostate. This combined with the slipping of his wand relentlessly against his hot lover's hairy body, and his lover's teeth in his throat, had Dré on the very edge. 

"Ugh-huh," Dré shook in his lover's arms. "I'm gonna come!" 

"Come, Dré. Come for me," Vince spoke with his lips pressed to his lover's throat. "Let it go." 

"Ungh!" Dré cried out as his cock erupted between them. 

"Hmm!" Vince closed his mouth around Dré's Adam's apple again, but this time to suck on it, as wave after wave of warm jizz added even more lubrication between them and coated his fur. 

"Hah!" Dré's seed continued to spill between them and coat their bodies. Once the scent of his lover's emission reached his nose, Vince, who fucked Dré through his orgasm, knew he had reached the edge himself. 

"Oh, God. I'm gonna come too!" Vince spoke again against Dré's throat. 

"Come in my mouth! I want it!" Dré pleaded, even as his juice continued to ooze between them. Before Dré even knew what was happening, Vince whipped his light lover around, off of his straining post, and onto the bed. Dré landed on his back and Vince scrambled up to his face. Vince held Dré's head in place with his hand on the back of the now prone man's neck and shoved his throbbing cock into the only too willing mouth. Vince buried his bone balls deep down his lover's throat. 

"Ugh," Vince felt the throat, mouth and lips clutch to him. "You want my cum?" he talked dirty while he pulled back to fuck his lover's face while he held him in place. Dré did not in any way attempt to resist or move. He was right where and how he wanted to be. He sucked and moved his tongue on the thrusting organ and immediately tasted Vince's freely leaking precum. 

"Oh, God, Duck. Oh, God! Here it is!" Vince paused in the moment he crashed over the edge and blew out deep in his lover's mouth. Dré had very much the scent of his own cum in his nostrils as he felt the big dick pulse in his mouth and release a torrent of semen. 

"Hoh, yeah," Vince pulled back slightly and, much more slowly, took up fucking his lover's face again. Dré wrapped his arms around his lover's ass as the stronger man unloaded in his mouth. He thrilled each time Vince shoved his gushing weapon into his throat. Dré swallowed the copious load as best he could even as the still spurting prod plugged his throat and jizz overflowed the corners of his mouth. Vince at last was still and just panted above Dré. He finally released his grip on the back of Dré's neck and ran his fingers through the platinum blonde hair. Dré made no attempt to move, even now that he was no longer restrained. There was no place he would rather be. He suckled on the still oozing cock and caressed it gently with his tongue in his cummy mouth. Dré looked up at Vince and ran a hand up to massage one meaty pec. Vince smiled down on his hot, thin lover. Dré was unable to smile back with his mouth full of still hard cock, but his eyes conveyed his feelings to his partner. Vince pulled his dick slowly out of Dré's mouth, only to rub it on the smooth face in an attempt to pick up as much of his spilled milk as possible. Then he stuck his yet hard bone back down his lover's throat. Vince moaned and Dré would have, were his lover's hard penis not in his throat. Vince pulled back enough for Dré to be able to breathe comfortably through his nose while he used his finger to direct the thick, but liquefying, load on his stomach, down his body. Some was caught up in his trimmed pubes, but much made it all the way down onto his dick. Vince carefully and methodically moved as much of Dré's spunk down his body and onto his cock, the half of which was still in Dré's mouth. 

"Like a little more?" Vince asked with a grin. He pulled back until just the head of his still hard dick rested between Dré's lips, and coaxed the jizz and oil mixture down his shaft. "Open wide," Vince bid. Dré did so eagerly. 

"There's a good duck," Vince sank his bone down his lover's throat yet again. Dré conformed his mouth to the stiff pole and moved his tongue along it's cummy surface as their juices mingled in his mouth. Vince slowly withdrew himself from his lover's mouth again and bent over to take Dré's still hard, cum and oil dripping cock in his mouth. 

"Hoh," Dré closed his eyes as his lover sucked him gently, for the first time that night. Vince slipped his mouth off the long, thin bone and licked his lips. He loved the taste of Dré's cum. If he had not been so hot for the sweet little ass, he would have tortured Dré's cock slowly and gently for as long as he could, only swallowing him down when he exploded. Vince made a mental note to do just exactly that next time. He moved to lay down on his stomach on the bed sideways from the way Dré lay. He rested on his elbows and took hold of the slight man with one hand on his forehead and the other around his neck. Dré happily opened his mouth to Vince and welcomed his lover's tongue into his mouth. He ran his fingers through Vince's very close cropped dark hair as the man probed his mouth and shared their combined essence. Vince at last broke their kiss and let go his firm grip on the trim man's head and neck. He raised his head and just gazed into his lover's ice blue eyes. 

"You are the most fuck-tastic lover," Dré praised. "Has anyone ever told you that?" 

"A certain especially sexy boy might have mentioned it a time or two," Vince smiled. "And his is the only opinion I care about."

"Anyone I know?" Dré teased with a toothy grin. 

"And he's a cheeky sod too," Vince smiled back. 

"You rock my world, Vincent Crabbe," Dré grew serious and looked up into his lover's chocolate brown eyes with undisguised adoration. 

"A man as sexy as this?" Vince ran his hand across Dré's smooth chest and down his thin body to take hold of his, only now softening cock and balls. "How could I do otherwise?" he smiled down on his lover and lowered his face to kiss him gently and lovingly on his lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. You're my sweet little sexy duck." 

"I love you, my big strong furry peach," Dré put a hand to his lover's face. Vince kissed Dré again and then rose from the bed. 

"Let me get you cleaned up," Vince headed for the bathroom. 

Dré lifted his head. "I think we might have ruined the duvet," he ran his hand across where Vince's oily stomach had left a stain. 

"I'm sure it won't be the first time or the last," Vince called back. Dré relaxed and was almost fully soft when Vince returned with a soapy cloth to clean his lover's cock and abdomen and a second to rinse him. He then did the same to himself before tossing the two wash cloths back in the bathroom. 

"That was well worth the wait," Dré endorsed as he pulled the bed back and slipped between the sheets. 

"I'll say it was," Vince agreed as he climbed in beside Dré and pulled his lover to him. 

"When you said on the plane that you were ready to fuck my face and my arse at the same time, I didn't think I would actually get both. I like it when you do that," Dré finished with a sigh. 

"I do too," Vince held the slight body to him and kissed the thin shoulder. As they were the same height, it was easy for them to intertwine their legs together while they pulled the light blanket up to their waist. Vince loved Dré's spindly limbs tangled with his and Dré was equally contented with his strong and hairy man's body wrapped around him. In no time at all both men drifted into a deep sated sleep. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Women in the Emirates did not need an escort or driver if they went out in groups. And two, especially of different generations, did qualify. Zahara al Qasimi, however, saw no reason to drive herself when she had ample staff on hand to do that for her. The fact that she was not going out alone and did not need a driver was irrelevant to her. She simply wanted one. This was why the perpetually grumpy Sanjiv was in a particularly foul mood today. Rania was going with her mother-in-law this morning, so Sanjiv had no choice but to assign Ashok to drive for them. And now he would have to prepare the afternoon coffee service himself. 

"Go and get changed. Miss Zahara wants the Rolls ready in five minutes," Sanjiv barked. "And stop moping around here," he added with a slap to the back of Ashok's head. When Ashok was not wearing the expected, respectful smile for the al Qasimi family, he didn't smile at all anymore. 

"I will send you back to India," Sanjiv barked on. "Do you know how many people in India would kill to have your job? Anyone could do it. I replaced Pankaj easily enough. I can replace you. I will send you back to your family. Do you think they want you back?" 

"No!" Ashok's eyes were wide with terror. "Sanjiv, please!" 

"Go!" the majordomo barked with a dismissive gesture. Ashok rushed out of the house and up to the servant's quarters above the big garage to change from his long tunic into a simple white dress shirt, shaking the whole way. He had tried very hard to mourn the only person he ever loved, and the only person who ever loved him, privately and not let it affect his work in any way. An endeavor at which he had evidently failed, considering Sanjiv's ever growing anger. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to go home to India. Ashok's family most assuredly did not want him. He had only been a burden to them and they never missed an opportunity to inform him of that fact. Ashok could remember many days as a boy when he had nothing to eat. His family would certainly not take him back and, in any event, while he left them a child, he was now a man. A man with no money to speak of or the ability to sustain himself in India. He had been so happy here in the al Qasimi household, so happy with Pankaj. It had been a dream come true. Now it was a nightmare. But no matter how bad it got here, going back to India would be worse. 

Ashok was still buttoning his white dress shirt as he ran down into the garage, snatched up the keys, and jumped into the white Silver Seraph. Ashok drove it up to the front door of the house and got out to wait for the ladies, tucking his shirt in as he did so. There was but a second to spare before Zahara and Rania emerged from their home. Neither woman wore an abaya or hijab, but were progressive in long sleeved blouses and skirts to mid calf. They both wrapped head scarves about themselves as Ashok opened the rear door for them. 

"We are going to Talise at Madinat Jumeirah, Ashok," Zahara informed as she slid into the backseat first. 

"Yes, Missus," Ashok smiled. He dashed around the car to take the wheel and they were off. 

This was a much shorter drive than to Bab al Shams in the desert yesterday. It took less than half an hour to reach the Madinat. It was not the first time Zahara had taken a spa day for herself and today she took her daughter-in-law for the same. Ashok knew that they would have multiple treatments and lunch at one of the restaurants here, and take hours doing it. 

It was easy to follow someone when you had two cars and could switch off. Not that Ashok would have noticed anyway. The four Brits wore tee shirts, tank top and shorts in the oppressive heat again. Vince and Dré where behind the Rolls when it turned into the sprawling hotel complex. Vince turned in as his partner dialed Rick's cell again.

"Yeah?" Rick answered in the passenger seat of the Mercedes close to a mile behind. 

"Rick, we turned left on Al Sufouh road and we've just turned into a hotel. Look for the Madinat Jumeirah. It's going to be just down a bit, after your turn, on the right," Dré informed. 

"Turn left. They went into the Madinat Jumeirah. It'll be on the right," Rick relayed. Dré stayed on the phone with Rick while Vince followed the bigger car down the palm lined drive. 

"Once you're in, go about half way down and turn left," Dré continued. "Look for the sign for the spa." 

"Here we are," Greg said as he slowed down to turn into the Madinat. 

"Look for the spa," Rick instructed. Half way down the tree lined drive they found the spa sign as expected and Greg smoothly turned left. 

"There they are," Rick gestured and hung up his cell. Down the smaller drive the BMW was stopped along the side. Greg slowly drove past Vince and Dré as their quarry got back behind the wheel of the Rolls and drove it away from the spa entrance. Greg followed and Vince took up after the Mercedes. 

Ashok drove to the relatively small parking lot for the spa and looked for a shady spot. He parked, but left the engine running. Ashok paid no attention to the other cars that parked a short distance behind him. He leaned his head back on the headrest and gave a sigh. He was so very grateful that the Sheikh had taken the G55 today. Otherwise he could easily have ended up driving that right now and it was just too painful to drive that vehicle. The one time Ahok did have to drive the Mercedes SUV, it felt like he had a knife in his chest the entire time, knowing that the steering wheel he held was the last thing Pankaj ever touched in this life. Before he was thrown face first into the sand and murdered, that is. Ashok caressed the steering wheel of the Seraph. Pankaj had touched this too. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted the folded picture that Mr. Nasir's little American friend had taken. It was the only safe place to keep it. Ashok ran his fingers over Pankaj's image and took a deep, ragged breath. He was ever so tired of crying. 

It was the shadow that caught his eye and made him look up. A white man in a yellow tee shirt and some kind of sports cap walked around the front of the Rolls and then right up to his window. The man was talking on a cell phone and leaned down slightly to wave at him through the window. Ashok could only imagine this tourist wanted directions for something or someplace. It would not be the first time someone approached him. It used to happen to Pankaj all the time. Ashok touched the button to lower the window. 

"Hullo there," Greg greeted with a smile. 

"Hello," Ashok returned in heavily accented English. "You need something?"

"I just wanted to tell you that this phone is for you," Greg handed over the cell. 

"What?" Ashok took the phone without thinking. It was an automatic response to someone handing over something. 

"It's for you," Greg gestured. Ashok just stared at the phone in his hand. 

"Go on. It's a friend," Greg assured. Ashok looked up at the British stranger and slowly raised the cell to his ear.


	4. VISA

Chapter 4: VISA

Nasir paced almost frantically while he waited, cell to his ear, each second an eon. It was only a few minutes after eleven at night in Seattle. His partner stood in the kitchen of their home and watched him work very hard to wear a path into the tiles on this side of the breakfast bar. Emmett wore only the boxers he had been lounging around in and leaned back against the counter while he ate sorbet right out of the container with a spoon. Nasir was dressed the same. He continued to pace as each second took an eternity to tick by. 

"Hello?" the unmistakable voice asked in English. 

"Ashok! Ashok, is that you? It is Nasir!" he stopped dead in his tracks. 

"Is that him?!" Emmett crossed the kitchen and set his sorbet down on the breakfast bar. He only understood the names Nasir said as his partner spoke in Arabic. Nevertheless, Nasir had Emmett's undivided attention. 

On the other side of the planet Greg watched the cute Indian's eyes go wide with recognition. He smiled and took a step back from the car to wait. 

"Mr. Nasir? Where are you? What happened to you? Are you all right?" Ashok asked. 

"Ashok, I am fine. I am in America. Has anyone told you what happened?" Nasir asked. 

"No one tells me anything. I know your father and brother are very angry. I heard them shouting, but no one will tell me why," Ashok answered. 

"Ashok, I am gay. The friends that I brought with me from America last year, do you remember them?" Nasir asked. 

"Yes. They were very nice to us," Ashok answered. 

"The tall man, Emmett, do you remember which one? He is my lover, my partner, my habibi," Nasir slid into a barstool and reached for Emmett. Emmett did not know what Nasir was saying to Ashok, but recognized his name and, in any event, did not hesitate to move to his partner when Nasir reached for him. He stepped between Nasir's legs and put his arm around the Arab's shoulders. 

"Oh, he is. We wondered," Ashok admitted. 

"We know about you and Pankaj, Ashok," Nasir stated. Ashok did not answer. Greg had no idea what was being said, but recognized the look of fear on the Indian's face. 

"Do not be afraid, Ashok. Only I and my friends know. We are just the same. We are your gay brothers," Nasir assured. "The man who handed you the phone you now hold is gay. He is my friend from the UK. His name is Greg and his partner's name is Viktor. You are safe. Ashok, I need you to understand what happened to Pankaj. When I was home, I was not alone. Emmett was with me, but he was in a hotel because he obviously could not come to the house with me. Emmett and I went to see the woman I was arranged to marry to see if we could come to some understanding. It was a terrible mistake. Her brothers mistook Pankaj for me, because he was driving the Mercedes, and killed him thinking he was me."

"What?" Ashok barely whispered. Greg watched a range of emotions cross the younger man's face. 

"Ashok, I am so, so sorry. I can only begin to imagine the pain I would know if I lost Emmett suddenly and violently as you have lost Pankaj. I will be sorry for the rest of my life," Nasir confessed. 

"Thank you, Mr. Nasir," Ashok spoke softly and wiped away the tear that escaped his eye. 

"Why are you thanking me?" Nasir asked. 

"No one would tell me why he died. Now at least I know why I lost my Pankaj," Ashok eyes spilled. "I loved him, and he loved me. He was my partner, my mate," he spoke the words aloud for the very first time to anyone. It was at once liberating and terribly painful. 

"Ashok, I know that you loved him and he loved you. I could see the way you looked at each other when you thought no one was watching. Listen, Ashok, I cannot imagine how hard it is for you there now," Nasir began. 

"It is. Now Sanjiv has arranged a replacement for Pankaj. At least he will stop yelling at me, probably, but I don't want some stranger to come into Pankaj's bed like he didn't matter. For six years I have worked in your father's house, Mr. Nasir, and I have loved it, but now, it is like I am in a nightmare and I can't wake up," Ashok wiped at his face. 

"Ashok, is Greg still there, the one who handed you this phone?" Nasir asked. 

"He is," Ashok confirmed. "Do you want to speak to him?" 

"No, no. Ashok, he is not alone. He has three friends there with him. They have come to help you. You can trust them. I trust them. They will take you from there, back to the UK with them," Nasir explained. 

"Mr. Nasir, I will never be able to go to the UK or the US. I have no way to get a visa," Ashok protested. 

"Greg and his friends will get your visa for you. You must give Greg your passport as quickly as possible. Can you do that?" Nasir instructed. 

"Yes. The next time I am sent out I will probably have ample opportunity to give it to him, but..," Ashok answered. 

"But what, Ashok?" Nasir asked. 

"Mr. Nasir, it is everyone's dream to go to the UK or the US, but where would I live? What would I do? I have little money and no way to support myself," Ashok laid out his fears. 

"Do not worry about that, Ashok. I will take care of you until you get established. Greg and his friends will help me. They will help you. Please do not be afraid," Nasir assured. "Give Greg your passport and keep this phone. Can you keep the phone hidden?"

"Yes. I can do that," Ashok assured. He would put it under the mattress if need be. 

"Ashok, I can't tell you what a relief it is just to talk to you. I will never be able to repay what I have cost you. I will be eternally sorry for that. But now, these men can take you back to the UK with them. You can start over and be safe with good people around you," Nasir looked up at Emmett and rubbed his lover's bare back. "We only hope that you can be happy. Anything that you ever need, you have only to let me know. My situation here is somewhat delicate. If I could leave the US right now, I would be there waiting to greet you in London with open arms. Emmett and I both would."

"Mr. Nasir, I don't know what to say. You tell me that you are sorry, but you should not be. I don't want you to be. You have always been kind to us. I am so grateful to you, for your understanding, and now for this incredible opportunity," Ashok spoke softly. 

"Ashok, I don't want you to call me Mr. Nasir anymore. I am just Nasir. We are equals. We are just two gay men. You are my brother," Nasir stressed. 

"Thank you, Nasir," Ashok wiped his eyes again. 

"I will leave you now with Greg. Get him your passport and he will let you know as soon as he has obtained your visa. Then you can go to your new home where people like us can be open and safe," Nasir instructed. 

"Okay. Thank you, Nasir," Ashok said again. 

"Take good care, Ashok. Inshallah we will see each other soon in London," Nasir bid. 

"Yes. I would like that. Good bye, Nasir," Ashok lowered the phone and ended the call. He looked up at the British man who stepped closer to the car again. Greg wore a smile, but Ashok could see that he was withering. Even in the shade it was a hundred and twenty degrees. 

"Would you like to sit in the car with me?" Ashok asked, speaking English again. He only regretted not asking sooner. 

"That would be lovely," Greg walked around the car and sat in the front seat while Ashok put up his window. 

"I will turn up the air," Ashok tried to make Greg more comfortable. 

"Thanks, mate. It's just bloody hot here!" Greg directed the vent to blow in the center of his chest. "I'm Greg," he offered his hand. "Nice to meet you properly." 

"Nice to meet you," Ashok smiled as they shook. "You will really take me to the United Kingdom with you?" 

"Absolutely," Greg assured with a smile. 

"I have no way to get a visa. You can get it for me?" Ashok asked. 

"My friend's father is in the Shadow Cabinet. I don't expect you'll know what that means. Suffice it to say, he's highly placed and well connected. He's got a man standing by at the British Embassy to help us," Greg pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed the number of the phone he that just given Ashok. "There," Greg hung up as soon as Ashok's phone rang. "Now you have my number. Just let us know where and when to meet you to get your passport. We'll get your visa in a jiff and then we can be off."

"Do you know where I might live, or where I can get a job? I will do anything to live there," Ashok was sincere. 

"Between the five of us, Vik included, we'll come up with something. We'll look after you. As for a job, I'm sure that'll sort itself out eventually," Greg smiled and nodded. 

"Mr. Greg, you are so kind to do all this for me," Ashok smiled. 

Greg put a hand on the Indian's arm, "I shudder to think what I would do if anything happened to Vik. We just want to do what we can to help." 

"Vik is the man you are with?" Ashok asked. 

"He is," Greg confirmed. He called up a picture of his lover on his phone. "He's from Bulgaria." 

"He is very handsome," Ashok endorsed. "Is he here with you?" 

"He's in Austria at the moment, actually, though, I can tell you, he very much wanted to come. I'm here with my friends Dré and Vince, who are also a couple, and our other mate Rick," Greg answered. "Do you have a picture of Pankaj?"

"Oh!" Ashok certainly did and had placed it, forgotten, between the seat and his thigh when Greg first approached the car. He produced it, unfolded it, and handed it to Greg. 

"What a beautiful picture. Who took this?" Greg asked. 

"One of Mr. Nasir's friends from America, when they were here last year," Ashok informed. 

"Were you two just sitting and standing like this, or did he pose you?" Greg asked. 

"He posed us, but we loved it," Ashok answered with a beaming smile at the memory. 

"I'll just bet I know which one. Short, skin darker than yours, very long, black hair?" Greg asked. 

"Yes! What is his name?" Ashok asked.

"His name is Seth. Right intuitive little fucker he is. You two look very happy in this picture," Greg observed. 

"We were," Ashok dropped his gaze as his smile faded. 

"Tell me about him. Tell me about Pankaj, Ashok," Greg bid. Ashok smiled and proceeded to tell someone details about the man he loved for the first time. 

It was over an hour before Greg walked back to the Mercedes. 

"What in the bloody hell have you been doing?" Dré demanded from where he and Vince sat in the back seat, before Greg even got his door closed. They had joined Rick to wait and watch as the Mercedes had a better vantage point of the Rolls from where it was parked. 

"Taking scuba lessons," Greg was flip. "Talking, obviously." 

"So he speaks English, then?" Rick asked. 

"He does, and pretty well, though with an accent. He is the sweetest kid you could ever want to meet. And his eyes are so sad," Greg shook his head. 

"Yeah?" Rick was concerned. 

"So what are we doing now? We're starved," Dré stated. 

"Starved," Vince echoed. 

"My man's about to fall by the wayside," Dré rubbed his lover's thigh. 

"Can't have that. Let's head back to the hotel for lunch," Greg suggested. 

"That's the best idea I've heard all day. See you lot back at the Radisson," Dré and Vince both promptly exited the Mercedes to return to their BMW. 

"We're absolutely doing the right thing, Rick. To hear him talk about Pankaj, it just breaks your heart," Greg shook his head as he put the car in gear. He waited for Vince and Dré to drive out, and pulled out behind them. 

"I can't wait to meet him," Rick looked toward the Rolls as they drove away. Ashok was watching them and gave a little wave which Rick returned with a smile.

Later that afternoon, they were ensconced in the Royal Club on the tenth floor of their hotel. Scones with jam and watercress sandwiches and other treats covered their table as they took their tea. 

"Alright, guys. Now we've found him, we have to decide what we're going to do with him," Greg led the conversation with cup and saucer. 

"What do you mean, what we're going to do with him?" Dré asked. 

"Where he's going to live," Greg clarified. 

"Ah," Dré gave a nod. "If we had an open flat, I'd say maybe, but we don't." 

"Rent free? Your father'd never stand for it, Duck," Vince spread clotted cream and jam on a scone. 

"I'd say he could stay with us, but I'm not sure it's wise to bring a strange man into our home while Victor is away, no matter how sweet and innocent he seems," Greg mused aloud. 

"H has the house," Rick suggested. 

"Do you think he would let us use it?" Greg asked. 

"Not bloody likely," Dré voiced his doubt. 

"Should he be left alone?" Vince asked. 

"We all can check on him throughout the day and I could move in there with him for a while," Rick offered. "And if H won't work with us, then Ashok can stay with me." 

"You just have a one bedroom flat," Dré pointed out. 

"That's right and I'm sure H will be furious," Rick expressed, "but I won't let him get in the way." 

"Now that I'd like to see," Dré sipped his tea. 

"Not to mention, Ashok would probably find my couch more inviting than having his own room at either of your places, where he has to watch a happy couple every day. So soon after he's lost his partner, that would have to hurt," Rick pointed out. 

"Good point," Greg nodded. "It sounds like the best option we've got is H's place, if H goes for it that is. Failing that, he can stay with you, Rick. And we'll all help to make sure he doesn't feel left alone and isolated in a new country and all." 

"What do we feel like for dinner, chaps?" Vince picked up the booklet that had a page dedicated to each dining venue the hotel had to offer. "There's La Moda if we feel like Italian. I've had my eye on the Palm Grill too, if we'd like a good bottle and a nice steak, yeah? Or there's Shabestan, the Persian restaurant with live music, if we want something more exotic." 

"After last night I could do with a little less exotic," Dré stated. 

"Vince, only you could plan a meal during a meal," Rick teased. 

"That's my peach," Dré smiled and rubbed his partner's arm. 

"I could do with a lovely steak," Greg nodded to himself. 

"Sounds good. Let's do that," Rick agreed. 

"Although, I warn you now, I'll not expense fine, expensive wines to Nasir," Greg dictated. He said no more and no one responded, as his cell rang. Greg was quick to dig it out of his pocket. "It's Ashok!" he announced as he answered it and put it to his ear. "Hi, Ashok." 

"Greg, I have my passport," Ashok stated. 

"He has his passport. That's great, mate. Where are you?" Greg asked. 

"I am on my way to the fish market. The fishmonger forgot the shrimp when he delivered the order for an important dinner the master is having tonight. Vijay was supposed to go, but the van got a flat, so while he is fixing that, Sanjiv sent me," Ashok informed. 

"Excellent. Where can we meet you? I don't know where the fish market is," Greg confessed. 

"What hotel are you in?" Ashok countered. 

"The Radisson Blu, on the creek," Greg answered. 

"I know it. You are actually very near the master's offices. I will bring it to you," Ashok stated. 

"Oh, that's great, Ashok. I'll meet you out front," Greg arranged. "Am I looking for the Rolls?"

"Yes. I can be there in about twenty minutes," Ashok advised. 

"See you then, mate," Greg said and hung up. "You chaps coming with?"

"I will," Rick offered. "I might snag a beer in the lobby bar while we wait."

Dré watched his partner spread strawberry jam on another scone. "You lot go ahead. We'll wait here." 

"Suit yourself," Greg said as he rose. "Back in a bit. C'mon, Rick." 

Rick said nothing as he stood and followed after Greg. They made their way to the elevator and rode down to the lobby. Around the corner from Marbles, the official lobby bar, was a traditional English pub called simply, The Pub. Here they obtained a proper pint, which went down all too easy in the very hot day. Greg picked up a city map from a rack at the lobby concierge desk as he and Rick made their way to the hotel front entrance. They waited inside where they could watch the drive though the darkened glass front of the hotel in air conditioned comfort. It was only another few minutes before they saw the white Silver Seraph pull up under the porte cochere. Greg quickly headed out with Rick right on his heels. 

"We're not getting in," Greg called to the doorman who smiled and reached for the back door of the obviously chauffeur driven car. Greg and Rick walked around the the driver's side as Ashok lowered his window. "Thanks so much for coming round. Could you just mark where we're supposed to meet on this map?" Greg said and handed it to Ashok. The Indian got it. He slipped his passport inside the map and handed it back. 

"Brilliant," Greg folded the map and slipped it into his pocket. Ashok looked up at Greg and Rick with eyes that threatened to spill. He put the car in park, opened the door and got out. Ashok was on the slight side, though not so thin as Dré, and almost Greg's height. He threw his arms around Greg's neck and hugged him tightly. 

"Thank you," Ashok said quietly as he held onto the British man. 

"We're glad to do it, Ashok," Greg said as he wrapped his arms around the lean torso. Ashok let Greg go at last and looked up at Rick. He was just at eye level with the taller man's shoulder. 

"Ashok, meet my friend Rick," Greg introduced. Rick offered his hand with a smile and Ashok flung his arms around Rick's neck just as he had done to Greg. 

"Oh!" Rick took hold of the thinner man by his ribs. 

"Thank you," Ashok expressed the same to the taller white man. 

"It's nothing," Rick spoke softly with genuine compassion. He could feel the younger man's fear and desperation. It was driven home to him in that moment that they were truly saviors to this bereft Indian man. He ran his hands up and down the thinner man's ribcage. 

"I have to go now," Ashok let go of Rick at last. "If this car smells of fish in any way Sanjiv will beat me," he got back into the car and shut the door. 

"You'd best hurry, then. We should have your visa by midday tomorrow. I'll send a text," Greg leaned down to speak into the still open window. 

"Thank you both again, so much," Ashok put the car in gear and drove away. 

"Blimey, what a sweet kid," Rick said as he and Greg walked back into the hotel. 

"Told you," Greg stated. 

"I'll just send a text myself," Rick pulled out his cell. 

See you at the match this weekend?

Rick sent the agreed upon code message to H that would look to all the world like an old school chum wanting to meet at a football or rugby match, should anyone read it other than him. It was what he should have done instead of calling H on the train to the airport. If H could talk, he would call, and if not, he would text something, anything back. 

"Another pint before we go back up?" Greg asked. 

"You read my mind, Gregory," Rick put a hand on his oldest friend's shoulder as they walked back into The Pub. No sooner did they take seats at the bar when Rick's cell rang. He answered it and brought it his ear. "Hi, H."

"Hi, Ced," H used his pet name for Rick. 

"Is this a good time?" Rick asked. 

"I wouldn't have called if not. I'm glad you reached out to me. I feel bad about the other day. I didn't mean to have a row. The kids were both crying and Ginny stomped off to the bathroom. Anyway, none of it was your fault. I didn't mean to take it out on you," H was kind. 

"Thank you, Al. It means a lot to hear you say that," Rick closed his eyes. Comfort from the man he loved, when they were not in bed together, was a rare and welcome thing. 

"I waited for you at the house yesterday," H relayed. "I know you said you were going out of the country, but I still hoped... I need to see you, Rick. I know we've had a rough time of it lately, and we need to make things right. I long to make love to you and hold you in my arms properly, all night. Will you come to the house Sunday? I'll tell Ginny I have to leave Sunday to be at the client's first thing Monday. We can spend the entire night together."

"That sounds lovely, Al, and I wish I could say yes, but...," Rick paused with a sigh. 

"But?" H could hardly believe his offer was not immediately and gratefully accepted. 

"I'm still out of the country and not quite sure when I'll be back," Rick explained. Their pint glasses were placed before them and Rick picked his up to have a gulp while Greg handed over his room card to pay for them.

"Where are you anyway?" H asked. 

"In Dubai," Rick wiped the froth from his upper lip with his hand. 

"Dubai! What the hell are you doing there?" H demanded. 

"I'm getting to that. That's one of the reasons I texted you just now. Do you remember me telling you about meeting Greg and Viktor's American friend, Emmett? His partner is from here," Rick was met with only silence. "Remember?" he prompted. 

"Did you? I suppose," H was indifferent. 

"Anyway the Emirati guy's family found out about him being gay, and tried to kill him for it, and ended up killing another innocent guy instead. Only that guy's gay too, but nobody knew it. So this guy's lover is all alone here now and he can't let anybody know or see him sad or cry or anything. And we wanted to help him," Rick expounded. 

"So you flew to Dubai? You're having me on," H could not believe it. 

"Al, he's a super sweet kid. You'll think so too when you meet him," Rick continued. 

"Meet him? I don't want to meet him. Any anyway how would I? I'm certainly not flying to Dubai," H was haughty. 

"We actually managed to arrange an entry visa for him. We're bringing him back with us," Rick relayed what he felt was good news. 

"Just what this country needs," H gave a sigh. 

"C'mon, H, don't be like that," Rick urged. Beside him Greg shook his head. It was all downhill from here and he knew he would have to catch Rick at the bottom. They had been down this road many times. 

"Why are you regaling me with this charming story?" H was dry. 

"We were rather hoping for your help. Ashok, that's his name by the way, will need a place to stay for a while, not too awfully long, just until he gets on his feet. You've got the big empty house with no one living in it and we thought," Rick began. 

"Well you thought bloody wrong!" H cut him off. "Do you think I want some Arab living in my house?! This is what you're doing instead of being with me? Flying half way round the world to pick up some stray boy? And then you have the cheek to ask me to keep him at my house, my retreat! Won't my neighbors love some squatting camel jock next door. They'll probably think I'm sponsoring a terrorist cell! That's brilliant, Rick! Just what I need!"

"H," Rick tried to cut into the ever growing tirade. 

"And who's bloody 'we' anyway?" H demanded. "That house is a secret. No one knows about that house and I want to keep it that way!" 

"H, everyone knows about that house," Rick spoke in a defeated voice. 

"They just better bloody not, Rick! I'm serious about this!" H raised his voice further. 

"The only person it's a secret from is Ginny," Rick stated. 

"Rick!" H shouted into the phone. 

"You know what? I am very sorry, H," Rick began. "I am very sorry that I bothered you with this. I am very sorry that you are not only a bigot, but an arsehole as well. And I am very sorry that I defend you every time someone points that out to me. I now quite fully realize how utterly stupid I must seem every time I do. No problem, you keep your house to yourself. I'll just keep him with me. He's bloody gorgeous, by the way, in case I forgot to mention that. I'd much rather he stay with me anyway, so thank you for giving me the excuse." 

"Oh, that's just brilliant, Rick. You have your bloody wog boy toy. See if I care! Just don't think I'll ever want to get near you again!" H threatened. 

"Not to worry, H. No doubt one shag with this beautiful boy and I shan't even remember your name. You have a smashing day," Rick bid sarcastically and ended the call. 

"Dré'll have a lovely time of 'told you so'," Greg pointed out casually as he took a sip of his beer. 

"No doubt he will," Rick picked up his glass. And then his phone rang again. He was quick to pick it up and answer it. "Oh, did I forget to turn my mobile off?"

"Rick!" they both heard the shout come through the phone before Rick ended the call again and shut the cell off. 

"There. Time to get good and royally pissed," Rick announced. 

"Are you all right, mate?" Greg put a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"I'm fine," Rick lied. "I should be used to the wanker by now, right?" he forced a smile. Greg let his hand slide down to rub Rick's back. 

"Were you serious about sleeping with Ashok?" Greg asked. 

"You know me better than that, Greg. Of course not. Poor sweet kid has been through enough. I wouldn't try to take advantage of him. I just want to help him. The very last thing he needs is to get caught up in my stupid mess," Rick shook his head and took another gulp of his beer. Greg only nodded. Of course he knew Rick had only said that to get a dig at H, who fully deserved it. 

"There you chaps are," Dré's voice made them turn. "You missed the end of tea. We have his passport?" he asked as he climbed onto the stool beside Greg. 

"Barkeep, two more," Vince called and pointed. He did not sit, but chose to stand behind his partner. In answer to Dré's question, Greg produced the folded map and placed it before the platinum blonde. Dré did not look at it, but handed it to Vince for safe keeping. Vince promptly shoved it into his pocket. 

"I am going to venture a guess, from the look on Rick's face, that he talked to H," Dré took a swallow of his fresh cold beer. 

"Suffice it say, Ashok will be staying with Rick," Greg answered. 

"Please. I could have told you that," Dré stated. "And I rather think I did. Love to hear his excuse." 

"The house is a secret," Rick spoke in a mocking tone. 

"A secret!" Dré exclaimed. "A secret from whom? Her Ladyship perhaps. No one else," he laughed. "Perhaps I should show up with a reporter and photographer from the Times the next time you two meet for a shag. Won't His Lordship like that!" 

"The way I feel right now, there won't be a next time," Rick stated. 

"I think we all know that's not true," Dré sighed. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Her Majesty's government had not one, but two Embassies in the United Arab Emirates. The first was in Abu Dhabi, the actual capital of the Emirates, and the location of the offices of President His Highness Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed al Nahyan. The Foreign Office of the United Kingdom elected to establish a second full Embassy in the business capital and actual heart of the Emirates, rather than a General Consulate. Her Majesty's Ambassador spent, in truth, most of his time in the Dubai Embassy. The offices of Vice-President and Prime Minister His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum, and most of the UAE government, were in Dubai. 

Dré presented himself at the British Embassy in Dubai at precisely ten the next morning. It was an easy building to find. It flew the British flag and they could see it across the river in the historic old city from their hotel rooms. Dré showed his passport to the Royal Marines at the gate, a call was made, and he was escorted into the building. While it was well over a hundred degrees outside, it was almost chilly inside. Such was the air conditioning that the officious looking man who walked across the marble lobby to meet Dré, was completely comfortable in his full suit and tie. Dré wore khaki pants and a pink polo shirt. 

"Mr. Malfoy?" the man greeted. 

"Yes," Dré confirmed. 

"I'm Gordon Danvers. Won't you come this way? I've got it from here. Thank you, Sergeant," Gordon gave a curt nod to the Marine. 

"Sir," the Sergeant turned and headed back out into the withering heat. Dré followed the man across the lobby and down a flight of stairs to a nicely appointed office, without windows, in the basement. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy," Gordon bid as he took the chair behind the big desk. "Let's have the passport then."

"Here we are," Dré placed it on the desk and slid it across. Gordon picked up the passport and looked it over. 

"You are a well connected young man, it would seem, Mr. Malfoy. The Consular Annex started asking questions until I told them my instructions came directly from Thames House, from the office of the DG of MI Five himself," Gordon paused with a smile which his guest coolly returned. "As you might guess, that stopped them short," he opened the passport again. "And who is Ashok Banagar that he should be welcomed so warmly onto British soil?" 

"I'm sorry, is this an interview? Am I meant to answer questions?" Dré raised his dark eyebrows. After a long pause Gordon smiled again. 

"Well," Gordon pulled open a desk drawer and produced the provided paperwork and stamp. "As you might appreciate, this isn't my field. I do hope I get this right." 

"As do I. If we have trouble when we land in London, that would really embarrass me, and I am, as you noted, well connected," Dré delivered his veiled threat. Gordon smiled again and stamped Ashok's passport along with a secondary paper that he then stapled into the passport. 

"Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy," Gordon slid the passport back. 

"You do the same, Mr. Danvers. I'll see myself out," Dré stood, slipped the passport into his pocket and walked out the way he came in. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

All day long Ashok waited for the occasion to arise that would get him out of the al Qasimi house, but it never came. The women did not want to go anywhere. Indeed Rania's mother and younger sister came to visit them for most of the day. A man could not be allowed to serve them, so it did not concern him in any way. He could have volunteered to go in Vijay's place, though that would have been suspicious, if Vijay had been sent anywhere for anything, but that didn't happen either. Hours slowed to a crawl. It was even more difficult than usual to serve the coffee and dates in the majlis with perfect decorum when the master and his son and secretary came home. True to his word, Greg had notified Ashok before noon that his visa had been obtained. It only remained now to go to the airport. A new life awaited him. And he was very ready to go. Without Pankaj, this place was hell. Everywhere he looked here he saw Pankaj. In the garage, or driveway, washing a car. Pankaj always had a warm smile, a speical smile, just for him. Pankaj's ghost was everywhere. And it would absolutely kill him to see another man take to Pankaj's bed like it was his own. He was desperate to go. If only he could get the hell out of this house. 

Coffee and dates were served again when Sheikh al Gargawi and his entourage arrived. His wife and daughter and daughter-in-law did not come this time, but his sons did, along with two other Emirati men and the Sheikh's secretary. Only the two secretaries were dressed in Western clothes. All the Emirati men wore white dishdashas and ghutras. Omar and Kasim received their guests properly in the majlis. It was all Ashok could do to not scream. He now knew that one of these men killed his lover. He wanted to throw their coffee in their faces. He wanted to beat them to death with his bare hands. The two older men clasped each other's hands and kissed each other on both cheeks. They were united in their shared catastrophe. They were in it together. The marriage, quite simply, must take place. Ashok listened to them talk about when Nasir could be expected to be on a plane back home and what they planned to do with him when he got here. There were voices who wanted to see him taken into the desert and volunteers to do so. This seemed to anger Sheikh al Gargawi the most. This was the man who would be his daughter's husband. Would they make his daughter a widow before she is even married? No. Nasir must be made to be a man and a proper husband, and he would be, just as soon as his legal wrangling ran it's course and he returned home. Sheikh al Qasimi wondered if the Sheikh would consider having his daughter become Kasim's second wife? Al Gargawi would not have his daughter, no reflection on Kasim, become any man's second wife. Ashok listened to this with balled fists. Not one of these bastards even mentioned the man they killed for no reason at all in cold blood. 

The men moved on to dinner where they all sat in a circle on carpets on the covered pool terrace. It was now after dark and a perfectly comfortable temperature. Ashok assisted Sanjiv in laying the feast before them. Like good Muslim men they all drank only water and Ashok stood attentively by with an iced pitcher. Dinner did not go terribly late on this night and at the master's signal, Ashok assisted Sanjiv in serving the final coffee. Like good guests the al Gargawi party knew to depart immediately after the coffee was finished. Ashok remained near at hand after the guests all departed should the men of the family need anything. An hour later Sanjiv came to him. 

"We are dismissed for the night. Take this," Sanjiv handed him a large white placard with the name Kamlesh Shah written in Hindi on it. "You will pick him up at the airport in the morning. Leave around ten and you should get there about the time he is through customs. Take any available car. It does not matter. And have him drive back while you give directions. He is supposed to be a very good driver. You must tell me if this is so." 

"Yes, Sanjiv," Ashok said obediently. The majordomo gave a final nod and headed for the door himself. Ashok followed out to the drive and across to the garage building. Once inside his room he undressed quickly and went into the bathroom. Ashok turned on the shower and sat down on the floor with the cell phone Greg had given him. He scrolled to the only number this phone had ever dialed. 

"Hi, Ashok," Greg came on the line. 

"Mr. Greg, I am sorry I could not get out today," Ashok offered. 

"Please, call me Greg and don't be sorry, mate. Do you know when you can get out? Can you get out tonight?" Greg asked. He walked along the quay in front of the Radisson Blu with Rick, Dré and Vince. Each of them carried a beer. 

"Yes, possibly," Ashok spoke quietly hoping that the sound of the shower masked him sufficiently should anyone be listening. "When everyone goes to bed, I can get out, but I do not know what I will do about the gate." 

"Can't you open it?" Greg asked. 

"If I trigger the the gate, the others will hear it open," Ashok stated. "I could cut the power. The gate can then be rolled aside, but it is very heavy. Pankaj had to do that once, but he needed Vijay's help and he was stronger than me." 

"Ashok will have to cut the power to the gate so it can be quietly rolled, but he's not strong enough," Greg relayed. 

"I am," Vince assured. 

"Ashok, we will get the gate open. How long?" Greg asked. 

"Once the others are asleep. Maybe an hour," Ashok spoke softly. 

"Rick, get upstairs and get us booked on the flight tonight. Then go with Vince to pick him up. Dré, you and I will get us checked out. We'll take the other car, and the luggage, and meet you at the airport," Greg choreographed. 

"Ready," Vince stated with a firm nod. 

"Done," Rick said and headed toward the lobby. 

"Sound plan, Goyle," Dré nodded his approval. 

"Ashok, Rick and Vince are on their way," Greg said into the phone. "You signal when they should approach the gate. Rick will have my phone." 

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Greg," Ashok whispered. He hung up the phone and hid it behind the toilet should anyone invade his privacy before he got out of the shower. 

All of Ashok's worldly possessions did not fill up the backpack that had belonged to Pankaj, and which Vijay had miraculously not taken. He owned three tee shirts, one of which he wore, two pair of shorts, four pair of underwear, and the jeans and sandals that he had on. He also owned two sets of kurta pajama. One was a casual cotton in a light blue on navy print. The other was his most precious possession. It had been custom made for him in India to Pankaj's specifications, together with matching pants and a pair of mojari. Ashok fingered the soft, silken fabric as he folded the garments carefully and packed them in between his other clothing to best protect them. Other than that were his photograph, the key to the safe deposit box Pankaj always had him hold onto, his toothbrush and the cell phone that was his lifeline. All of the other clothes, including the shoes, were the property of the master. They were no good to anyone else, but Ashok would not be accused of taking anything that did not belong to him. Once he was ready and certain that everyone was asleep, he sent a text. The reply came immediately that they were waiting outside the gate. Ashok paused before he walked out of the room for the last time. He knelt beside Pankaj's bed and put his hand on his lover's pillow. 

"I'm sorry, Pankaj. I just can't stay here any longer. I hope you understand. You were the best thing that ever happened to me," his tears began to fall. "The only good thing. It's no good without you here. I can't take it. I love you. I will always love you, and never forget you," Ashok put his head down on the side of Pankaj's bed and sobbed for he didn't know how long. Until he could have sworn Pankaj's own hand touched his shoulder and whispered in his ear to go. Ashok nodded to the dark empty room, wiped his face and stood. He slipped his backpack over his shoulder and snuck out into the dark hall. He crept down the stairs into the garage and to the row of many switches. He knew the one that was not for a garage door or lights, but for the motor of the gate. He then slipped out the side door of the long garage and into the dark night. 

Rick and Vince crouched out of sight near the gate of the al Qasimi compound. They waited quietly as the minutes ticked by until a figure appeared at the bars. 

"Mr. Rick?" Ashok whispered into the dark. 

"Yeah, Ashok, it's me," Rick rose from his hiding place and approached the gate with Vince close on his heels. "Is the power cut?"

"Yes, it is," Ashok verified. 

"This is Vince. He'll take care of this gate," Rick assured. 

"Right. Now stand back, you lot," Vince instructed. He braced his back against the stone wall, wedged his foot against the fourth iron bar, and used the strong muscles of his legs to push the gate aside far enough for Ashok to slip out. 

"Wow," Ashok was impressed. 

"I know. Strong as an ox, our Vince. C'mon," Rick put an arm around Ashok as they walked quickly toward where the car was parked. "Is this all your stuff?" he asked. 

"It is everything that was mine. This backpack belonged to Pankaj, but the others left it for me after they picked through his things," Ashok's voice betrayed ust how painful that was. "I am sorry. I wish I had more to bring with me. I do not have much, but it is enough for me." 

"Never you mind about that, Ashok," Rick assured as they reached the car. He opened the door to the backseat. "Anything else you need we can get for you in London. And I picked up a few things for you when we were shopping earlier today." 

"You did?" Ashok stopped to look up at the taller man. He couldn't imagine anyone aside from Pankaj wanting to buy him anything. 

"I did," Rick smiled. "I think I guessed right at the size, but we'll deal with that later. Get in the car now. We have to get to the airport," he directed. Ashok all but dove into the backseat and Rick closed the door behind him. Behind the wheel, Vince already had the car started and in gear, and pulled away from the curb even as Rick was still closing his front passenger door. 

Ashok watched nervously out the back window as they drove out of the Al Khaledia suburb of the city of Sharjah. Not until they came to the Al Huda Mosque with it's beautifully illuminated minarets and turned onto Sheikh Zayed Road did Ashok turn forward. And then he saw that Rick was watching him and smiling. 

"I guess I am nervous," Ashok said timidly. 

"Quite alright, Ashok. It's to be expected," Rick said kindly. "We're on our way and we'll be in London very soon." 

Ashok just relaxed into the seat at last and smiled back at the kind man. Vince drove them to the airport with no difficulty and parked in the late night car rental return right next to Greg's Mercedes. 

"We're to put the keys in the drop box?" Vince said as he got out of the car. 

"That's what Greg said," Rick confirmed. Vince did so as Rick and Ashok joined him on the sidewalk. 

"Nice to meet you properly, Ashok," Vince offered his hand. "I'm Vince." 

Ashok looked up at Vince and threw his arms around the bigger man's neck. 

"Now what's this for, little mate?" Vince asked. 

"For freeing me from my prison," Ashok held onto Vince tightly. 

"Glad I could help," Vince wrapped his arms around the alluringly thin man and just as quickly did not want him that close any longer. To Vince's relief Ashok let him go and they headed for the terminal. 

Greg and Dré were waiting by the ticket counter with all of their carry on bags. Ashok ran to Greg as soon as he saw him and grabbed him in a tight hug again. 

"Just because," Ashok anticipated the question and spoke into Greg's chest. Greg just held the slight Indian and rubbed his back. Rick could not help but notice, in the light of the terminal, the way the younger man's tight tee shirt and snug, skinny jeans fit him. The inch of skin that showed between the bottom of his shirt and the top of the low rise jeans that hugged his little butt, while he stretched up to hug Greg, was most inviting as well. The kid looked damn good in his own clothes. 

"Ashok, this is Dré. He is the one who obtained your visa," Greg introduced. Ashok's eyes went wide and he flung his arms around Dré's neck as well. 

"Thank you. I don't know how I can ever thank you all," Ashok hugged the taller and thinner white man. 

"Happy to be of assistance," Dré patted Ashok's back lightly. 

"You three have to check in," Greg passed out tickets. 

"C'mon, Ashok," Rick put his arm around the shorter man and walked him to the Club World counter. They showed their passports and obtained their boarding passes, and Vince did the same. 

"Alright then, you lot," Dré took charge. "The British Airways Terraces lounge is beside gate twenty seven and as it happens, that's our gate. The flight is in just under two hours so we have time for a cocktail or three." 

"Leave it to Dré to scope out the lounge," Rick smiled. 

"Too right. C'mon then," Dré led the way toward security. 

"What is a Terraces lounge?" Ashok looked up at Rick. 

"It's a special place that people can go to relax before their flight either because they are members, or flying Club World or First," Rick explained with a smile. 

"Oh," Ashok had little understanding. "What are we?"

"We are flying in club," Rick answered. 

"I don't know what that is," Ashok admitted. 

"You'll soon see, Ashok," Dré assured kindly. "I think you'll like it." 

Greg watched this exchange with a smile on his face. He was impressed with two things. First, that Dré let Rick get away with giving that explanation to Ashok without a word. And second, that Ashok seemed to be gravitating to Rick. It was just as well as they would be living together for the foreseeable future and it would do well for them to bond. 

They passed through security without incident and continued toward the lounge. 

"Can I have my phone back now?" Greg held out Rick's phone. 

"Oh, right. Forgot all about that," Rick pulled Greg's phone from his pocket and traded back. 

"I couldn't help but notice you have a few texts and voicemails when I turned it on," Greg pointed out. 

"Oh, fifteen in all. Lovely," Rick typed the instruction to delete them all. 

"Not going to read or listen to any of them?" Greg watched what Rick was doing. 

"Nope," Rick finished and slipped the phone back into his pocket. 

"Might some of them be important or from someone else?" Greg posed. 

"Nope," Rick repeated. 

They presented their tickets at the Terraces desk and were admitted without delay. This lounge was nothing on the level of the Galleries lounge at Heathrow, but was a comfortable retreat. It was a long and narrow facility arranged in zones. There was the world wine bar, a coffee and juice bar and buffet of hot foods, a work and entertainment zone with computer kiosks and sofas and chairs around large flat panel televisions, and even separate male and female bathrooms with showers. Dré led them to a tall table with four barstools around it. Vince was quick to pull over another. 

"Claret, Duck?" Vince asked as they parked their bags nearby. 

"That would be lovely," Dré gave a nod as he, Greg and Ashok climbed onto the tall chairs. 

"What would you like to drink, Ashok?" Rick asked with a hand on the slim shoulder. 

"Do they have mineral water, or maybe a cola?" Ashok queried. 

"You don't want an alcoholic beverage? A beer or a glass of wine?" Rick countered. 

"I do not drink alcohol. It was forbidden in the household," Ashok stated. "I could try something. What are you having, Mr. Rick?" 

"Please, Ashok, it's just Rick, all right? We're friends, equals. You calling any of us mister will sound odd in England," Rick instructed. 

"I am sorry, Mist, I mean to say, Rick. I will try to do better," Ashok wanted so to please them all. 

Rick put a friendly hand on the younger man's thin tee shirt clad back to reassure him. "Good," he smiled. "And to answer your question, I'm going to have a beer. 

"Get him a glass of Riesling," Dré suggested. 

"Good idea, Dré. I tell you what. I'll bring you a beer and a glass of Riesling if they have it, and you drink what you like," Rick rubbed Ashok's shoulder.

"Can I come with you?" Ashok asked. 

"Of course you can," Rick smiled. 

"Bring me a beer too, boys," Greg bid as Ashok slid off his barstool. 

"Bit like a lost puppy, he is," Dré commented. "Thank you, Peach," he added as his partner returned with their wine. 

"Everything is so new to him. Rather ironic, really," Greg observed. "Being behind the wheel of a Rolls Royce is commonplace to him, but having a drink or, no doubt, flying club is completely beyond his experience." 

As it turned out Ashok much preferred the sweet wine and insisted on carrying Greg's beer to him. He could not suppress his smile as he served his chief savior. Rick wisely brought a bottle of Evian for Ashok as well, encouraging him to sip his wine slowly. It wouldn't do to have to pour him onto the plane. 

Greg toasted to their success and the conversation turned to Ashok's excellent grasp of the English language. Ashok explained about his childhood and background, and had many questions about life in London. What Ashok knew about London came pouring out of him when Greg asked if there was anything in particular that he would like to see. Rick had the next week off and would be Ashok's constant companion as he began his aquaintance with his new home city. 

"And after Rick goes back to work, you're welcome to spend your days with me if you like," Vince offered. "I manage and look after our building. You're more than welcome to join me while I do that. You don't have to be alone if you don't want." 

Dré made but the slightest shift of his eyes. Vince didn't even have to see it know how his offer may have sounded to the most important man in his world. He took Dré's hand and brought it to his lips. Vince kissed his partner's hand softly, not once, but twice, and then held it in his lap. He wanted no man to mistake who held his love. Dre visibly relaxed and his lips turned up into the smallest of smiles. He loved how well his partner knew and comforted him without either of them having to say a single word.

Their flight began boarding at just after two in the morning and they made their way next door to the gate where a 747-400 was parked outside the windows. Ashok followed along closely and handed over his ticket and boarding card as the others did. 

"These best be seats in the center, Diggory," Dré warned as he led the way down the jetbridge. It was not lost on any of them that his command as they boarded this aircraft was exactly the opposite of the order he barked when they boarded their previous flight. 

"I put you in the loo," Rick called after him. 

"Wanker," Dré called back. Ashok watched this exchange with fascination. He very much admired the easy teasing camaraderie of these men. 

"Were are we sitting?" Greg looked at his card as they walked through the hatch of the huge aircraft. 

"Dré and Vince are together and I put Ashok and me together as well. Sorry, mate," Rick gave a shrug. 

"No, it's just as well," Greg gave a nod. It made sense for Rick to sit with Ashok. The more they bonded the better for both of them. Dré and Vince had row 12 E&F while Rick and Ashok had the same seats in row 13. Greg had row 14 J and was the only forward facing seat. 

"Here we are, Ashok," Rick reached out to his traveling companion to find the shorter man taking in the cabin agape. 

"What kind of plane is this?" Ashok asked with wonder clear on his face and in his voice.

"You must have flown before," Rick said as he parked his bag at his seat and reached for Ashok's backpack. 

"Once before in my life. I flew here when I was fourteen, but that was Air India and it was nothing like this," Ashok spread his arms. 

"Well, this is what's called Club World on British Airways and this is your seat," Rick gestured. 

"I like British Airways," Ashok enthused as he sat down with Rick. A flight attendant appeared almost immediately with two flutes of champagne on a small tray. 

"Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Annie. I'll be taking care of you on our flight to London. Champagne?" she asked with a smile. 

"Thank you," Rick took them both and handed one to Ashok. 

"What is this?" Ashok asked as he watched the bubbles inside his glass. 

"Sparkling wine. It's traditional to make a toast. Here's to a new beginning for a very sweet guy," Rick smiled warmly. 

"May I make a toast too?" Ashok asked. 

"Of course you may," Rick agreed. 

"To Mr. Nasir, and his friends, the kindest and most generous men ever," Ashok was solemn. 

"I don't know about that, but alright," Rick touched his glass to Ashok's and they both took a sip. 

"Oh!" Ashok rubbed his nose. "This is fun!" he took another sip. The lights in the cabin gave a blink as the aircraft switched over to it's own power. In another moment they felt the jumbo jet give a shudder as it was pushed from the gate. 

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. This is Calvin Fisher, your Chief Flight Attendant, on behalf of Captain Milton Herrick, welcome aboard British Airways flight one oh six, nonstop Boeing seven four seven four hundred service to London Heathrow. Our anticipated flying time tonight is seven hours, thirty five minutes. At this time we ask that all seat backs and tray tables be placed in their full upright and locked position in preparation for departure. Please don't hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do to make your flight to the United Kingdom more enjoyable. Please do give attention to your monitors for our short safety video," came the announcement. The usual seatbelt, seat cushion, oxygen and exit door video popped up on all their monitors. Ashok watched this with rapt attention which Rick observed with a smile. 

Ashok finished the video and looked around the cabin. "We are facing backward." 

"That we are," Rick confirmed. "Is that okay? Greg has a forward facing seat and I'm sure he would not mind switching with you, but then you would have to sit alone." 

"No, please, I do not want to sit alone," Ashok protested fearfully. He very much did not want to leave Rick's side. Ashok wasn't sure why he drew such enormous comfort from this man even more than the others. There was something in Rick's eyes when he smiled at him. All Ashok knew for sure was that he wanted to stay with Rick. 

"Okay, then," Rick tried to put Ashok at ease, but mistook the reason. "I think you'll find you get used to flying backward quite quickly. We flew here backward and we're going home the same way, to your new home." 

"Home," the boy tasted the word on his tongue. 

"I know this must be a little scary for you, leaving with four strangers for a far away new country where you don't know anyone, but I promise you will be all right and we all hope you will soon learn to love it," Rick expressed.

"What is it like in London?" Ashok asked. 

"Well, it's different than anything you're used to, I expect. Hard to say really. You'll just have to experience it for yourself," Rick gave a nod. 

"I would be afraid to get lost by myself," Ashok expressed. 

"Don't worry, mate. We won't turn you out by yourself. One of us will always be with you until you're comfortable on your own," Rick assured. "You'll be living in my flat with me, at least at first, so you'll probably see more of me than any of the others." 

"I would like that, Mr. Ri, I mean, Rick," Ashok quickly corrected himself and smiled. 

"I'm going to have to collect your glasses, gentlemen," Annie intruded. Rick and Ashok relinquished their flutes. 

"Can we have some more of that? I like champagne," Ashok enthused. 

"After we take off we can, certainly," Rick nodded. 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," came another male voice. "This is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard from the Flight Deck. We anticipate a smooth flight when we reach our cruising altitude of thirty nine thousand feet, and will endeavor to turn off the fasten seatbelt sign as soon as possible, allowing you to move about the cabin as you wish. We are number one for departure will be taking off just as soon as we reach the runway. Flight Attendants, doors to Departure and cross check, then please be seated." 

"Do you think you are missed yet?" Rick asked. 

"No," Ashok shook his head. "They will not wonder where I am until I do not show up for breakfast at six." 

"Well, we'll be nearly to London by then," Rick smiled. They felt their huge jet turn onto the runway and heard, as much as felt, the four big engines give full thrust. In but a moment they were airborne and climbing into the nighttime sky. 

"Rick, is Mr. Nasir happy?" Ashok asked. 

"You know what, mate, I've never actually met Nasir. From everything I'm told, I would have to say he is," Rick answered honestly. 

"He said he is with the big American man, Emmett. He seemed nice," Ashok commented. 

"Now I have met Emmett and I can tell you he's one good chap. And I know he loves your boy Nasir. I think Nasir and Emmett are very good together," Rick affirmed. 

"Greg showed me a picture of Vik. I can tell from the look on his face when he talks about Vik that he loves him very much," Ashok smiled. 

"That he does, Ashok. Greg loves Viktor very much and Vik loves him. You'll see for yourself. You'll meet Viktor soon enough," Rick assured. 

"I know that Dré and Vince are together and they seem very happy. What about you? Do you have someone?" Ashok asked. Rick took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. 

"I am sorry. I do not mean to pry," Ashok said with concern. "It is not my business." 

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's a perfectly legitimate question. It's just that my life is a bit complicated, and the truth is right now I'm not sure how to answer," Rick admitted.

"You do not have to explain," Ashok tried to give Rick an out.

"I know, but I want to. Everyone else knows the situation, and you're one of us now, so you should too. There is a man in my life," Rick began. "We met when we were school boys and were together for years, but it was never a smooth relationship. We often rowed and broke up, then got back together. The last time we were apart, he married and had children. He was and still is trying to live up to what others expected of him. After a while, though, even that wasn't enough to keep us apart, so for the past few years we have been seeing each other in secret."

"Oh," Ashok thought a moment. "I thought Mr. Nasir made it sound like we could be open in your country." 

"We can. Ours is an open society. Dré, Vince, Greg and I are all open about who we are. It's just, sometimes there are other factors, personal ones. Like I said, it's complicated," Rick repeated. 

"I know it is not this way in the west or in India, but in the Emirates a man can have more than one wife. I have seen this. Sometimes the first wife is the wife for..." Ashok tried to explain, but lacked the English vocabulary. He furrowed his brow in frustration and tried again. "The first wife is selected by others, for reasons important to them, but the second wife can be chosen by the husband for love. She is not as important to others, but more important to him." 

Rick appreciated Ashok's effort to make him feel better, even if he didn't quite succeed. "You're right, that is not our way, but I know what you are trying to say. Thank you for that, Ashok. I think maybe I was in that position similar to that of the second wife, the one chosen for love, but of course I bet in the Emirates a man does not hide the second wife from others. The secrecy is difficult, sometimes too difficult. He and I have been rowing about it lately and, to be honest, I do not know where we stand right now. He may not want me when we return to London, and that may be for the best, for both of us."

"Why would he not want you? Is it because you came to get me? Is it because I will be living with you? I do not want to be a burden and cause trouble!" Ashok spoke with concern.

"No, please don't think that or blame yourself. Our problems were around long before we even knew you existed. We simply may have reached a point where being together is more painful than being apart," Rick used his hand to wipe a tear that threatened to fall. Ashok reached for and held the other man's hand.

"It is hard, keeping love secret," he said softly. The two exchanged a silent look of understanding.

"Would you gentlemen like some more champagne?" Annie approached them again. 

"Yes, please!" Ashok was all for that. Annie looked to Rick who gave a nod. 

"It is okay?" Ashok asked. 

"Certainly it is," Rick smiled and rubbed the dark forearm. "You have goose flesh!"

"It is on the chilly side in here," Ashok rubbed his arms. "This is so nice. I didn't want to complain."

"We'll soon put that right," Rick assured. He showed the younger man how to use his in-seat controls to adjust his personal air vent. "That's just for now. We'll get you a blanket too." 

"Here we are, gentlemen," Annie returned with two fresh flutes, which she placed on the small table at the end of the armrest between them. "And here are your breakfast menus. We'll serve breakfast about an hour before we land. Anything from the kitchen now?"

"Are you hungry, Ashok?" Rick asked. 

"I am not. Thank you," Ashok shook his head. 

"What we would like is our pillows and duvets, please," Rick stated. 

"I'll bring them straight away," Annie smiled and dashed off. 

Rick read the puzzled look on Ashok's face. "These seats lay flat into beds." 

"They do?!" Ashok looked around his seat. 

"When we're ready to get some sleep, that button there," Rick pointed, "will lay your seat flat." 

"I did not know such a thing was possible on an airplane," Ashok's eyes filled with wonder. 

"You should see the private suites in the First cabin," Rick chuckled. 

"There are nicer seats than these?" Ashok could not conceive of it. 

"But very pricey. Too expensive for us," Rick stated. 

"Here we are, gentlemen," Annie returned with a pillow and blanket for each of them. 

"Thank you, Annie," Rick stood up to take the bedding. He set his own pillow and blanket aside and handed Ashok's pillow to him. "Now, unbuckle your seatbelt for a moment and let's just get this wrapped round you nice and snug," Rick instructed. He tucked the blanket around Ashok and re-buckled the boy's seat belt. "There! This way if you happen to fall asleep and the captain turns on the fasten seatbelts sign, you'll be all set and Annie won't have to wake you," Rick sat back down. 

"You have all been so very kind to me. You and mist, you and Greg, especially," Ashok looked out from his cocoon. 

"I can't imagine anyone not being kind to you," Rick smiled as he handed Ashok back his flute. 

"Pankaj was kind to me," Ashok led his head rest back on his pillow. "I miss him very much." 

"I imagine. He was a good guy, your Pankaj?" Rick asked. 

"He was a very sweet and loving man. He took care of me from the day I arrived. I was only fourteen, but my family was too poor for me to stay at home. I had too many younger brothers and sisters, so I had to work. A man my father knew told him about this job, a good job, with food and a place to stay and money to send home. It was hard leaving my brothers and sisters and all my friends. I was very scared, but then Pankaj picked me up from the airport and he made things better," Ashok relayed.

"Pankaj had been working for Sheikh al Qasimi for years and he taught me everything: how to serve the family; what to do to avoid getting in trouble; how to speak Arabic. In the beginning, when I didn't know anything, I sometimes made Sanjiv so angry. He often said what a mistake it was to hire me, and threatened to send me back home to my family," Ashok shuddered at the thought. "Pankaj would calm him, or he would help me, doing extra work so that I would not get in trouble. There were many days when the only kind words I heard were at night, when Pankaj and I were alone in our room. It was very nice to have a man care for me. It was the first time anyone ever cared for me that much," he paused to look up into Rick's attentive eyes. 

"Later, when I was older, Pankaj told me he loved me and I already knew I loved him too. He was the only one I have ever been with. But, of course, we had to be careful so no one guessed we were together. If anyone had found out, they would have sent both of us away."

"That sounds like a difficult life," I observed.

"It was sometimes, but we had each other and we were happy together. Now the worst time for me is at night," Ashok confessed. "He used to hold me from behind, or he would lay on his back and I would lay my head on his chest or shoulder. He really liked that. I did too. When we would go to bed, he would kiss the top of my feet and then rub them and my calves if they hurt, if I was on my feet all day. Pankaj was most caring. He gave me the best years of my life," Ashok took a sip of his champagne and set his flute on the table between them. 

"How old are you, Ashok?" Rick asked. 

"Twenty, now," Ashok answered. 

"Now? When is your birthday?" Rick pressed. 

"Today," Ashok answered quietly. 

"Today! It's your birthday today?" Rick put a hand on Ashok's arm again. 

"Pankaj was going to take me to the beach today," Ashok's grew even sadder. 

"I'm sure he would have loved to spend the day with you. I'm really sorry that he was taken from you so horribly, Ashok. No doubt, wherever he is, he considers the years he had you as the best of his life. Any man would," Rick rubbed the dark arm. 

"He had told me this, when he was still alive. He had worked for the Al Qasimi family for many years, but the other men who served the family before I came along were not like us, so he had been alone. We were so happy to have found each other." Several tears escaped Ashok's eyes and he wiped them away.

"I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, and I understand you need time to come to terms with his loss. I also know this is hard for you to imagine now, but you are so young, Ashok. You really do have your whole life ahead of you. I know there's another man out there who will win your heart and love and cherish you, just as you deserve to be," Rick encouraged. 

"I don't want anyone else," Ashok dropped his gaze. 

"I know, Ashok. I know," Rick continued to rub Ashok's arm with his thumb. Their situations were more similar than Rick would ever care to admit. "But I think, if he could, Pankaj would encourage you to try and find happiness in life, in your new home. I think he would want that for you." 

"I hope so. It felt bad to leave the place where we had been so happy, but he's gone and it just hurt so much to be there without him. The man hired to replace Pankaj was due to arrive this morning. It would have been so hard to share a room with him, to see him sleeping in Pankaj's bed," Ashok wiped away another tear. "I am sorry. I do not mean to sound sad and ungrateful. I cannot thank you enough for taking me away from there. I am sure I will be happier in London." 

"Good! Focus on that for now," Rick encouraged. "I'm confident in time everything else will fall into place. And happy birthday!" he leaned over into Ashok's seat to give the younger man a kiss on his cheek. 

"Thank you!" Ashok gave a small smile as he touched his face where Rick had kissed him. "I am glad to be here with you on my birthday. Will you help me find a job and learn the city and things, Rick? I don't want to be alone," he looked up at Rick with imploring eyes that melted the taller man's heart. 

"Of course I will. We all will. Don't you worry about that," Rick smiled. 

"I can be your friend? All of you?" Ashok asked. 

"Just you try and get rid of us!" Rick reached over to tussle Ashok's hair. "I tell you what," he leaned closer to Ashok and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "I'm going to let you in on the secret of our group. Ready? Here it is: Dré has a strong personality. You may have picked that up," Rick watched the Indian pay close attention. "But Greg's guy Viktor is even stronger. If there were a leader in this group, I would have to say it was him. It was actually his idea that we come and get you." 

"Really?" Ashok asked. 

"Really. And I know him well enough to know that he is going to love you. So don't you worry, Ashok. You're already in," Rick assured. 

"I would love to meet him," Ashok reached out from his blanket to pick up his flute. 

"You will. And don't be surprised if he grabs you and gives you a hug that damn near squeezes the life out of you," Rick warned. 

"What?" Ashok grew fearful. 

"Really, he's just a big teddy bear. He's a lot like Nasir's Emmett in that way. Viktor is a professional footballer, and a damn bloody good one at that, but sometimes I think he should've been a wrestler," Rick chuckled. 

"He plays football?" Ashok asked. 

"Quite well," Rick stressed again. 

"Can we go see him play sometimes?" Ashok asked. 

"Greg never misses a match and the rest of us try not to either. So you had better bloody believe you're going to be there too," Rick patted Ashok's arm. The younger man took another sip of his champagne. 

"I like this, but it is going right to my head I think," Ashok blinked several times. 

"Well, I'd say you've more than earned it, mate," Rick smiled. He watched Ashok's eyelids droop. "Let's get that bed of yours down flat," Rick took the flute from him and touched and held the button that raised the foot and slid the bed down until it was flat. He turned to kneel in his own seat and leaned down over the prone man. "Rest easy, Ashok. As easy as you can. You're in good hands. We've got you now," Rick gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Ashok sat up quickly and reached for Rick as the older man lifted away. He took hold of Rick by the back of his neck and kissed the British man on his cheek. "Thank you, for everything." 

Rick could not help the smile he gave the sweet, trusting man. "Get some sleep now. No doubt it'll be a long day tomorrow and we'll have to deal with the time change," he laid his own seat down flat into a bed. Rick pulled on his own airline provided socks and made himself comfortable under his blanket. 

"Rick?" Ashok asked in a small voice. 

"Yes, Ashok?" Rick asked back. 

"May I hold your hand?" Ashok asked meekly. 

"Of course you may," Rick reached over and took the younger man's hand in his. Together, hand in hand, they fell asleep.


	5. Linden Gardens, Notting Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, my friends and dear readers, we come to what is the actual start of the story of the Goyle/Krum family, who reside at Linden Gardens in Notting Hill, in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, in London, England, in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Consider the first four chapters of this book a Prologue.

Chapter 5: Linden Gardens, Notting Hill

The air was not yet warmed by the sun when they emerged from their home on Linden Gardens in Notting Hill, though it was not cool. They had risen with the sun, bathed and taken their breakfast together. Now, an hour later, at seven, they set out. Gregory Goyle pulled a large suitcase that rolled along behind him. A good sized carry on bag was slung over his shoulder. He wore a pale blue button down shirt and snug jeans. His five year old daughter was full of energy this morning and it brought a smile to his face as she hopped and skipped down the sidewalk ahead of him. Helena Goyle-Krum wore her favorite backpack, stuffed full of the things she simply could not live without on his trip, strapped to her as she scampered along and sang to herself. She was very excited. Helena loved her grandmother and aunt and uncles and wished she could see them more often. But more than that, she had missed her other parent immensely, and today the family would be reunited. Greg missed his better half, for his own reasons, and found that after nearly four weeks his very soul craved and cried out for the feel of his partner's arms. 

They cut through the mews to the main road and then down the half block to the Notting Hill Gate Tube station. Helena had her own Oyster card which she very carefully kept track of in the little purse that was also strapped to her body. She reached up to touch it to the yellow sensor, waited for the green light and proceeded through the gate. Both her parents were very proud of how responsible she was and told her so frequently. Greg followed his daughter through and they headed for the escalators. 

"Did you put your Oyster away, Lene?" Greg asked. 

"Yes, Daddy," she answered with a sweet smile and patted her purse. 

"There's my good grown up girl," Greg ran his hand down the back of her head as they made their way to the northbound platform for the Circle line. Greg took care to have his daughter ever in front of him as they boarded the underground. They found seats easily enough as the carriages were not too terribly crowded. 

"How far are we going?" Helena perched on the edge of her seat. 

"We are going to Paddington Station. You'll have to let me know when we get there," Greg bid. This was a game Helena's parents never failed to play with her. Figuring out where to go helped to develop her skills of self reliance. The day would inevitably come when she headed off on the Tube alone, but as she was only five, that was a long way off. At this point, they guided her onto the right line and direction, but Greg was sure she would soon graduate to plotting their entire route if they just gave her the destination. Right clever was his little girl and he never tired of telling people so. The Tube stopped at Bayswater and a few people got off while others boarded. Greg and his daughter sat in their seats and the carriages continued on. The next station was their destination, but Greg made no move that would give it away. 

"Daddy, this is it!" Helena tugged at his sleeve as their carriages slowed into the station. "Daddy, this is our stop. Get ready!"

"Right, ready," Greg took hold of the suitcase handle and slid up to the edge of his seat. Helena was never satisfied that they were 'ready' to depart the carriage unless they were perched on the edge of their seats and poised to dash. The carriages finally came to a stop and the doors slid open. Helena jumped from her seat and Greg took after her. 

"Where to now, Daddy?" Helena scampered ahead. 

"Now we go up to the train station to catch the Heathrow Express," Greg instructed. Helena paused to read from her father's body language which was the right direction, and skipped ahead of him as he walked. Once up in Paddington, Greg bought their tickets for the express and they headed for the track where the big train sat waiting for them. With great and sudden drama, the little girl leaned forward and grasped the shoulder straps of her backpack. It had been light as a feather and scarcely noticed until just this moment, when it suddenly weighed several stone. 

"Go on," Greg directed. Helena climbed the steps up into the train ahead of her father and, once they found seats, heaved herself into one with a great sigh. Her drama was entirely forgotten before her father even sat down. Greg smiled as he helped his struggling daughter free herself of her Disney Princess backpack. 

"You want your Leapster Explorer?" Greg asked as he unzipped the backpack. 

"I do," Helena confirmed. "Baby wants to play too," she announced. Greg produced the Leapster learning system and handed it to his daughter, followed by a most realistic looking baby doll. 

"Here we are," Greg placed the doll in his daughter's arms. She sat back in the seat and placed the baby beside her, tucked under her arm. 

"You want your Tinker Bell game?" Greg fished in the bottom of the bag. 

"No, Daddy. We're travelling," Helena gestured like he was a dolt. "Dora." 

"Right, of course," Greg found the correct cartridge and inserted it into the Leapster for her. "There you are then." 

"Thank you, Daddy," Helena was polite. 

"You are very welcome, my girl," Greg sat back in his seat and relaxed. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Helena shook her head, but did not take her eyes off her game. Greg watched out the window while his daughter, and her doll, contentedly played their learning game. Soon the train gave a heave and began to pull out of the station. They continued to accelerate until they fairly flew out of London at high speed. Indeed this train took only fifteen minutes to reach Heathrow from the center of London. It made only two stops, at Central Heathrow Station and Terminal Five. The first was their stop. 

"Nearly there. Time to pack up," Greg instructed as the train slowed into Heathrow. Helena made no protest and handed over her Leapster. Greg had her packed up and the backpack strapped back on her by the time the train pulled into the station. Helena made fancy work of leaping the last step from the train onto the platform and turned to await instructions from her father. 

"This way, Lene," Greg gestured with his head. Passengers heading to Terminal Four from here would have to catch the shuttle. Terminals One and Three were reached by a rolling walkway in the underground concourse beneath Central Station. While British Airways had all of Terminal Five, only the really large jets going overseas departed from there. Terminal Five was truly the British gateway to the world. With very few exceptions, British Airways flights to Europe departed from Terminal Three. Once off the people mover, they rode the long escalator up to departures and checked in for their flight. Greg was quite happy to be free of the big suitcase. They all but undressed and dismantled for security and then continued on to the gates. 

Greg and Helena had a good two hours until their flight and headed for the Galleries lounge. If his trip to the Emirates had taught Greg anything, it was the advantages of flying in club. Club Europe was not quite the same as Club World, but still made all the difference. Greg selected a small table that he could see from the Chef's Theatre. 

"Here we are then," Greg helped his little girl out of her backpack again. "Fancy a colouring book?" 

"Oh! Do you have a new one?" Helena knew her father well. She had also seen him pack her crayons. 

"Of course I do," Greg extracted it from his big carry on bag. 

"Let me see! Let me see!" she reached and jumped. Greg handed her the Madagascar coloring book and smiled at her big eyes while he fished in her backpack for her box of crayons. 

"Now then," Greg set her crayons on the low table. "I am going to get you a juice and I could certainly do with a good coffee. I want you to stay right here at this table," Greg leaned down and put his hand on her shoulder for emphasis. "All right?" 

"I will, Daddy," Helena did not look up.

"I'll be right back," Greg kissed her forehead and headed off. He was reasonably confident that this was a safe environment, but still did not want his child out of his sight. Greg continued to steal glances to check on her as he made himself a cup of coffee and poured her a glass of orange juice. Helena stood at the table and colored diligently away. Several crayons were arrayed around her when he returned and she was so engrossed that he doubted she even noticed he was gone. 

"Here you are, Lene," Greg sat the glass of juice near her.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. Greg sat back in his chair with cup and saucer and savored the proper European coffee. Helena was patient and thorough and had three pages nearly done, pausing only occasionally to take a sip of her juice with both hands, by the time they needed to head to their gate. 

Helena hopped and skipped down the jetbridge ahead of her father, stopping only when people blocked her way at the hatch of the aircraft. The Airbus A320 seemed tiny to Greg compared to the 747-400 he had last flown when he came home from Dubai only a few weeks ago. The Club Europe section had large seats with only two on each side of the one central aisle and theirs were 8 A and C. 

"Here we are. Right in here," Greg directed. Helena walked into their seats and climbed into the one by the window. Greg placed his bag in the overhead compartment, helped her out of her backpack and stashed it under the seat in front of her. "Fasten your seat belt. Do you remember how to do that?" he asked as he sat down in his own seat. Helena pulled the two ends of the belt into her lap and made a face while she struggled to fit them together. Greg smiled as he watched her do it. He could have done it for her, but knew she would want to do it herself. She was most satisfied when they clicked together. 

"It's so big!" Helena held up the connected strap. Indeed three of her friends could have fit in it with her. 

"Looks like a grown up sat there before you, and a pretty big one at that," Greg adjusted the strap down to fit her snugly. He had promised to send a quick text and pulled out his cell to do so, before he was made to turn it off. 

Seated on the plane  
On our way!  
Can't wait to see you  
Miss you so bloody much  
We both love you

Greg then turned to look at his daughter who sat in her seat with her legs crossed and one arm up to lean on the wall with her elbow while supporting her head on her hand. For all the world a little diva who deigned to allow all these other people on her plane. 

"Oh my God. Hold that pose!" Greg quickly took a picture with his phone. "Let's get one together," he leaned over into her seat and she placed her head beside his with an enormous smile as Greg took another picture. "He'll love these," Greg sent them along. 

A few minutes later the lights in the aircraft gave a quick wink as the jet switched over to it's own power. Another moment after that they felt the plane get pushed back from the gate. 

"We're on our way, Lene!" Greg reached over to pat her leg. 

"I know! I can't wait!" she enthused. 

"Are you going to miss Ashok?" Greg asked. 

"Daddy, I love Ashok," Helena gushed. "But I miss Daddy more. I can't wait to see him!"

"I know, Lene. Me too, believe me," Greg nodded. 

"Daddy, make him promise to never go away again so long," Helena gripped her father's arm tightly. "Make him promise."

"I wish I could," Greg leaned his head back on his seat. 

"Of course you can," she rolled her eyes and gestured with one hand like she was talking to a simpleton. "You just have to make him promise. He won't refuse you, Daddy. He can't!" 

"He can't?" Greg asked. 

"No," Helena shook her head. "Because he loves you. I know he does." 

"Well, I love him too," Greg stated. He was glad that his little girl knew her parents loved each other. 

Their jet had to queue up for take off, but once they accelerated down the runway Helena clapped her hands. She stretched to see out her window as they climbed into the sky.

Greg ordered a mimosa, once they reached their cruising altitude, but would allow himself only one as he was looking after his child alone. He ordered fruit and cheese for Helena to snack on while she watched the children's programming channel on the in-flight entertainment system. Greg could not help but smile the way she looked in the oversized headset as she listened to the program she watched. She was quiet but for the occasional giggle. Greg laid his head back on the seat and relaxed. He thought of Viktor. He missed his partner so very much. Greg could picture the Bulgarian's sexy smile, and every other inch of him. He just could not wait to feel the stubble of Viktor's slight goatee against his face as they shared a kiss, the first in damn near four weeks. Greg opened his eyes and shook his head as he felt his cock expand in his jeans. He was simply not going to sit beside his daughter on an aircaft with an erection. That would very much not do. 

With the worst possible timing, Helena shifted around in her seat and tugged on her father's shirtsleeve. "Daddy, I have to go to the loo," she announced. 

"Right, of course you do," Greg pulled the buckle of his seat belt and reached to unfasten hers as well. He stood up in the aisle, giving her room to get out. Helena slid out of her seat, walked into the aisle and headed forward, where she knew the lavatories to be. Greg followed her up to the front of the plane. Helena stopped at the lavatory door and turned to glower up at her father with her hands on her hips. 

"What are you doing? I can do it myself," Helena declared. 

"And I know that perfectly well," Greg hung his head to give her just as much attitude back. "I have to go too. I'm just queuing up." 

"Oh," her indignity vanished. "Wait here then," Helena turned and pushed on the folding door. 

"My very intention," Greg stated. "Don't forget to use a seat cover." 

"I won't," Helena assured as she pushed the door closed. Only then did Greg allow his smile to appear. Their little girl was more grown up every day. Greg folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the bulkhead. He knew he was in for a wait. Going to the loo was a production for little kids. For little girls anyway. Eventually Helena emerged. She pushed the accordion door aside with a grunt. 

"There now. Did we wipe properly and wash our hands?" Greg asked. Helena rolled her eyes and thrust the palm of one hand up at him as she turned and walked away. 

"Here, where did you learn to do that?" Greg called after his daughter who paid him no mind. "Go right back to our seats then," he added even as he could see that was what she was doing. Greg waited until she slipped into their row to enter the lavatory himself. He lifted the lid of the toilet and pulled his thickened meat out of his pants. The very act of pulling his foreskin back felt so good in his current state of sexual tension that his dick swelled further in his hand. "Nothing but trouble today, you are," Greg spoke to his cock. "I should wank so you'll behave," he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Greg gave a frustrated sigh. "I am not going to toss off in an airplane loo," he looked down to make sure his aim was proper as he finally began to piss. "And if anyone can hear me, they'll think I'm barking." 

Helena sat comfortably in her seat when her father returned to his. 

"There. Everything alright then?" Greg asked. 

"Daddy, you have to stop asking me that!" Helena brought a fist down on the armrest between them for emphasis. 

"I used to have a little girl. Who are you, madame?" Greg teased. "I used to have a little girl who needed and loved me," he stuck out his bottom lip. 

"I still need you and love you, Daddy," Helena knelt up on her seat to throw her arms around his neck in a hug. 

"I love you too, my girl," Greg closed his eyes as he held his child to him a quick moment. "Let's get you strapped back in now," he instructed and watched her do it. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

The Gunners were afforded few opportunities to sleep in during training camp and took full advantage of it when they did. Their rooms were modern and well appointed at the Quellenhotel und Spa in Bad Waltersdorf. Every Gunner shared with another and each room had two double beds. Viktor smiled broadly when he received the text from his family. He could not wait to show Andrey. The Russian and he had lounged in their beds until finally Andrey got up to get in the shower. Viktor set his phone down and thought about his partner. He remembered the day he met Greg at the television studio. Years ago it was now. Arsenal had just bought his contract and he had just begun his first season with the Gunners. The management and team had been impressed and very happy with his solid performance on the pitch. Viktor had proven to be all they had hoped for and more. The Arsenal fans had welcomed him with cheers. Everyone wanted to interview him. Viktor refused at first, embarrassed of his English, but his coaches and the other international players convinced him. So he went to be interviewed by the morning show on BBC One, Breakfast, and there was Greg. Had Viktor been his usual confident self, he might easily have missed him. Greg was of average height and weight, not muscular or built, but he looked to Viktor like a real man, so completely genuine. It was his confidence and ease in the television studio that stood out to Viktor. This was clearly Greg's domain, as much as the football pitch was Viktor's. He was a man unlike any Viktor ever saw in the locker room at Emirates Stadium. He had the warmest smile and the kindest eyes. Viktor had been instantly smitten. He smiled at the memory of how Greg had at first been professionally reserved around him, though hunger had been clear in the Brit's eyes. Hunger that had matched his own. Viktor smiled as he remembered how strong he had come on, telling Greg that he would have a drink with him, not asking. Viktor shook his head. As he thought back about it now, he had really been an ass, but Greg had fortunately responded. When he took Greg out that night, the Brit was still cautious, but Viktor had been especially considerate in an attempt to overcome his aggressive first impression. It had not been easy to convince Greg that he was truly interested in him and to let down his guard. Viktor remembered how much he had flirted that night and how Greg only slowly grew more forward as his comfort level increased. They had agreed that they wanted to see each other again and arranged to do so. It had been the first time someone Viktor showed interest in had ended a date without at least trying to have sex with him. Far from being disappointed or offended, Viktor remembered how he had walked on air that night, knowing that the sweet Brit liked him. The next time they went out, they shared a kiss. The time after that, they shared their bodies. Viktor smiled at the memory of how enraptured Greg had seemed while stripping him of his clothing, when it was really the Gunner who had been most pleasantly surprised and very lucky to find the especially fat post Greg kept hidden in his pants. They could not get enough of each other that night. And that feeling had never changed. 

These thoughts had a natural affect on the Gunner's sex deprived body. His cock throbbed, almost painfully hard, and demanded attention. Viktor had not jacked himself off in over a week in anticipation of reuniting with his lover. He kicked the sheet and blanket away until he lay fully exposed and took the matter in hand. He closed his eyes and rubbed his solid chest with his left hand while he took up a very slow stroke with his right. Viktor did not want to make himself come, not now when his mate was only a few hours away. Of course, so was his child and he missed her terribly too, for very different reasons. He realized that they could not very well ask her to turn her head while they made love. Perhaps it would be a good idea to relieve the pressure so that ripping Greg's clothes off of him would not be the only thing on his mind. Of course that wouldn't really be the only thing on his mind, but it would be hard to ignore. Viktor stroked himself faster and gave a soft moan. This felt so good right now, but Greg's mouth would feel better. He heard the shower shut off, but paid it no mind. Viktor didn't care one bit if Andrey saw him doing this. The Russian and he had spanked off together several times during this training camp. Viktor gave a frustrated moan and stopped masturbating. He just held and squeezed his crank. He really did want to save it for Greg. Viktor looked down at himself and he was so charged up that he was leaking profusely already. Precum ran down his head, was caught up in his foreskin, and even ran down his shaft and onto this thumb. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he had what he thought was a brilliant idea. Viktor picked up his phone and took a close up picture of his hard, drooling cock in his hand. The first just as he held it, and the second on an upstroke with his foreskin rolled up over his leaking head such that only the seeping eye was visible in his cowl. These he sent right off to Greg with a most satisfied smile. He was sure Greg was as charged up as he was, and would simultaneously love him and curse him for sending these pics. 

The bathroom door opened at that moment and Andrey walked out into the room. He was naked and used his towel to dry his dirty blonde hair. 

"Ha!" Andrey caught sight of Viktor. "You think about Greg!"

"I think about those pretty Russian lips. Come here," Viktor teased. 

"You wish!" Andrey threw his wet towel at Viktor, who caught it before it landed on his face. Viktor still held his phone in his hand and was struck with another brilliant idea. He waited until Andrey pulled clean underwear from his side of the dresser and bent to pull them on, when he clicked a picture of the Russian's bare ass. 

"What that sound?" Andrey turned around with his snug boxers only up to his thighs. He had heard the shutter sound the phone made. He saw the phone in the Bulgarian's hand and the look on his face. "You take picture of me?" 

"I send to Greg also. My cock and your ass," Viktor chuckled. "He like your pretty ass." 

"You pretty funny guy," Andrey finished pulling his boxers up. "He can like my ass, but he can no have it." 

"That okay. Grigor have my ass," Viktor gave a firm nod and set his phone aside. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

The two hour and twenty minute flight into the heart of Europe passed uneventfully, apart from their excursion to the bathroom. They had only forty minutes to connect in Vienna and they needed every minute of it. The British Airways gates for their jets were on the very opposite end of the airport from their regional feeder flight on Tyrolean Air to Graz. Greg carried his big bag slung over one shoulder while his daughter wore her backpack and diligently trucked along beside him. 

"Daddy, is it much farther?" Helena whined. 

"A little ways, Princess," Greg ran a hand down the back of her head. 

"My bag is sooo heavy!" she wailed. 

"I know it is, but you need everything in there, right?" Greg prompted.

"I do!" Helena insisted. 

"I know you do," Greg pulled his cell from his pocket and turned it on. He had forgotten to do so when they landed. "Oh, I have a new message. I think it's from Daddy," Greg smiled as he opened the email. 

This is how much I miss you

had two photo attachments. 

"It is from Daddy? Let me see," Helena jumped to reach for the phone. 

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Greg held his phone to his chest. He swallowed his sudden mouthful of saliva and willed the twitch in his jeans to stop. A few steps further and Greg closed that email only to discover a second one. 

Special greetings from Andrey 

"Oh for Christ's sake," Greg muttered as he viewed more of the straight Russian player than he ever thought he would. 

"What is it?" Helena was very interested and bounced beside her father. The tremendous weight of her little backpack was completely forgotten. 

"A frightful mistake," Greg referred to opening the emails while not in private, "but nothing for you to worry about."

When they finally reached the Tyrolean Air gates, there sat the little De Havilland Dash 8 Greg had been dreading. 

"Daddy, look at the cute little plane!" Helena enthused. She loved the little turboprops for all the reasons Greg hated them. 

"Isn't it just," Greg mustered zero enthusiasm. 

"It'll be fun, Daddy. Come on!" she took his hand and pulled him toward the gate. Greg smiled that his little girl, who only minutes before was being crushed under the great and terrible weight of her little pink Princess backpack, suddenly had the energy not only to bear it, but drag an adult man along behind her while she did so. They did not bother to take seats as it was time for the commuter flight to begin boarding. The gate was a flight of steps and a door that led outside onto the tarmac. Helena skipped ahead and waited for her father at the bottom of the stairs that were the inside of the door to the little plane. When it came Greg's turn to climb the five steps, Helena went ahead of him. The overhead compartment on this tiny plane was no bigger than a breadbox. Helena jumped up into the seats that were significantly smaller than the ones they just left, while Greg took up all the room under both seats in front of their 7 D and F with his one bag. 

"Strap in," Greg said as he sat down. "Oh, let me help you with that," he pulled her backpack off of her and dropped it on the floor in front of her seat. Helena saw to her own seat belt and Greg tightened it. Soon the door was pulled up and the engines kicked to life. 

What Greg did not like about these aircraft was that the wings were mounted above the fuselage, rather than below. The turboprops that were mounted below the wings, were then directly outside the windows. Tiny in comparison to the turbofans on the big jets, these seemed to make twice the noise. And the vibration they generated while the aircraft was still on the ground was nothing short of amazing. Helena loved it and giggled her way across the airport and down the runway. Once they were airborne she wanted her Leapster Explorer and busied herself with learning. This flight was mercifully short and soon they were descending into Graz Thalerhof. 

"Look, Lene," Greg pointed. "Look at the mountains. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Oh," Helena pressed her face to the glass. A few minutes more brought them down into the airport with a decided thud and they vibrated their way finally to a stop. 

"There. Bloody hell," Greg expressed his relief as he watched the propeller outside their window wind down. 

"Whee!" Helena stuck her feet up and leaned on her father's arm. "That was fun, Daddy." 

"I'm glad you enjoyed that, Lene," Greg sighed. Helena gasped and pressed her face to the glass again. 

"Is Daddy here?!" Helena looked about outside as best she could. 

"Not quite yet, my girl. We have to get our bag and meet the shuttle that will drive us to Daddy. And remember to call him Tatee," Greg reminded. 

"Oh, I will!" Helena enthused. She thrilled to delight him. The door of the small plane dropped down and the people began to shuffle forward. 

"Come now, let's get going," Greg put the Leapster back in her backpack and strapped it to her again. He walked ahead and held her hand out of the small hatch and down the door stairs. Once again the little girl took great joy in leaping off the final step. She let go of her father's hand and dashed away. 

"Lene, don't get too far ahead, please," Greg called. He was ever so happy to leave the little rattletrap aircraft behind them. It was a good walk from where the plane had parked to the terminal, but right inside the doors was the baggage claim. It took little time for the ground crew to unload the few bags their plane could carry and bring them to the short little belt. 

"Here we are. Stand back, Lene," Greg bid. She did so and Greg swung their big suitcase off of the belt and onto the ground. Parked at the curb outside, just where they said it would be, was a twelve passenger Mercedes Benz sprinter van with the name and logo of their hotel on the side. The Austrian woman who waited beside the van in white jeans and hotel uniform polo shirt had short dark hair and shoulders as broad as Viktor's. 

"Hello. Gregory Goyle," he introduced. 

"Ach. Welcome to Austria, Herr Goyle, und Fraulein Goyle. I am Gretchen. I will take your bags," she greeted. Gretchen pulled Greg's big suitcase around to the open back of the van and lifted it in like it weighed no more than a pound. 

"Daddy," Helena grasped Greg's pant leg. "I need the loo again." 

"Oh dear," Greg looked around. "Well, it's rather a drive, so we'll have to go now. Gretchen, we need to visit the loo just very quickly," he called. 

"Ja, ja, go ahead. We wait for another couple. Take you time," Gretchen smiled. 

"Ah, good. We'll just leave these inside," Greg placed his big carry on bag inside the van on the second row of seats and freed his daughter of her backpack. "Come, Lene," he took his daughter's hand and headed back inside the terminal. He did not know the German words for restrooms, but recognized the symbols easily enough. Greg took a deep breath and led his daughter by the hand into the men's room. 

"This is the one time we are at a disadvantage," Greg muttered to himself. 

"Why, Daddy?" Helena looked up at him as they rounded the corner. Sure enough, there were several men standing at the urinals taking a piss. Greg was not prepared to elaborate for his daughter. He did not want to teach her to be afraid and did not want to tell her that under no circumstances would he allow her out of his sight in a busy airport. Greg turned Helena's head away as they passed the men with their dicks in their hands, and guided her to one of several empty stalls. He was very glad of the meticulous Austrians who kept these facilities so clean. Nevertheless, he plucked a seat cover from the dispenser that was above her reach and handed it to her as she walked inside. Helena closed the stall door and Greg maintained vigil outside of it. A man old enough to be his father said something to him in German with a smile. 

"I'm sorry. I don't speak German," Greg apologized. 

"Ach. English," he nodded. "I said, I see your wife is not with you. You are to be meeting her." 

"Something like that," Greg gave a smile. 

"Ja, ja," the older man nodded. "You have a beautiful madchen kleines." 

"Thank you," Greg was pretty sure that he had said 'little girl'. "Have a nice day," he called after the departing man. In a few minutes, during which Greg studiously avoided making eye contact with the other men in the restroom, Helena opened the door behind him and Greg turned around. 

"All done?" Greg asked. Helena only nodded her little platinum blonde head. 

"Right. C'mon then," Greg took her hand and turned her head away for a second time as they once again ran the urinal gauntlet. He could have done with a piss himself, but he was not about to leave her alone while he did it. He would wait until they reached the hotel. 

An older couple was just seating themselves in the first passenger row of the van when Greg and Helena returned. They were looking forward to taking the therapeutic waters of the mineral baths for which Bad Waltersdorf was renowned, and were quite taken with the pretty little girl, as most people were. As Gretchen closed up the van and took the wheel, Greg pulled a packet of wipes from his well stocked carry on bag. Helena dutifully held out her hands for him to wipe them. 

"Thank you, Daddy," she said when he finished. 

"Very welcome, you are," Greg pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head before he put the wipe away. By then they were driving out of the airport. Greg put his arm around his daughter and snuggled her to him. Just as he suspected would happen, within minutes she was out. He was torn. She was missing the beautiful scenery as they drove deeper into the mountains and if she was tired later on it might give him some adult time with the partner he missed so desperately. In the end Greg elected to let her sleep. He reasoned that if she didn't need it, she wouldn't be sleeping. 

The A2 Motorway took them further up into the mountains and finally into the lush green valley in which was nestled the tiny town of Bad Waltersdorf. Gretchen got off the motorway at the lone exit, and drove them through the quaint and tiny hamlet. They emerged on the other side and started up the foot hills again to reach the Quellenhotel und Spa, perched as it was with it's commanding view of the town and valley. 

"Lene," Greg rubbed her shoulder. "Wake up, my little princess. We're here," he spoke soothingly. 

"Are we?" she asked in a tiny voice and rubbed her eyes with her little fists. Helena sat up and looked out the window. "Daddy's here?" 

"He sure is," Greg confirmed. 

"Where is he?" Helena grew excited as she looked around. 

"He'll be on the pitch by now. We'll take our things to our room and then go find him, right?" Greg rubbed her back as the van pulled to a stop at the hotel front entrance. A doorman opened the big van door and a bellman opened the back, even before Gretchen could get out from behind the wheel. 

"Willkommen," the young doorman smiled. 

"Thank you," Greg said as he emerged ahead of his daughter with his carry on bag over his shoulder. 

"Ach. From England. Welcome," he said again in heavily accented English. 

"Thank you," Greg repeated as he took Helena's hand. She jumped down, as was her habit, and all but pulled her father into the hotel. 

Quellenhotel had a large and airy lobby done entirely in blonde woods. Wild flowers filled a great bowl on a round table in the center of the space. A woman in hotel uniform waited with a smile at the front desk. She greeted them again in German. 

"Hello," Greg smiled. "I'm Gregory Goyle," he produced his passport and handed it over. "My partner will have checked us in already. He was to leave a key." 

"Ach, yes. Herr Goyle," she looked at his passport to confirm his identity and handed a key packet to the waiting bellman. "Your room is a deluxe garden view double in the north wing. Rolf will show you the way." 

"Thank you," Greg nodded and replaced his passport in his bag. "Come along, Lene," he steered his daughter with a hand on the back of her head. "We have to follow this nice young man." 

Rolf led them across the hotel to the very furthest point from the lobby. A fact Greg was most glad of, just as soon as Rolf opened their door with the key card. The room, like the rest of the hotel, was furnished with blonde woods, including the floor. Crisp, starkly white linens graced both double beds. A desk and table and chairs sat beyond the beds in front of a sliding glass patio door that gave out onto a private terrace with a view of the grounds and woods beyond. Greg did not have to ask where the friendly match was being played. On the expanse of lawn, down the hill from the hotel, directly in view from their room, the game was underway right in front of them. Helena flew to the glass and pressed herself, hands and face, against it. 

"Daddy!" Helena cried. Rolf set their big suitcase on a stand next to Viktor's duffel bags that were already present. Greg dropped his carry on bag on the bed nearest the door and pulled a five Euro note from his wallet, one of a few left over from a previous trip into the heart of the EU. 

"Danke, Rolf," Greg traded the young man the five note for his room key. 

"Bitte, mein herr," Rolf smiled. "Enjoy your stay," he added in English as he withdrew. 

"Daddy, Daddy! Is it Daddy?" Helena jumped up and down as she pointed. 

"I'm sure it is, my girl," Greg walked over to join her. "He's out there somewhere," he commented. The game was too far away to make out any faces or numbers on jerseys. "Let's get you out of this and we can go down and see," Greg pulled his only too eager child out of her backpack. 

"Let's go!" Helena shouted and banged on the glass with her open palm. 

"Just one second, Lene. Do you have to use the loo?" Greg asked. 

"No!" she was keen to avoid any delay. 

"Well, daddy does. Give me a second," Greg headed for the bathroom. He left the door open a couple of inches while he stepped up to the toilet and pulled himself out of his jeans. 

"Daddy, hurry up!" Helena's face appeared in the doorway behind him. 

"I'm going as fast as I can," Greg looked over his shoulder even as he started to piss. "You could unpack a little, right? Make baby comfortable on your bed." 

"Okay, just hurry up," Helena walked away. Greg could only smile while he finished in the bathroom. When he emerged his child's baby was comfortably reclined, nestled between the pillows on the bed nearest the patio. 

"There now. That's nice," Greg reached into his big bag to extract a smaller bag. 

"Daddy!" Helena stood before him and stomped her foot. "We have to go!" she gestured toward the patio doors with great drama. 

"Yes, I know that," Greg agreed. He opened the big suitcase to get the suits he had packed for himself and Viktor hung up. 

"Daddy!" Helena demanded again, even louder this time. 

"We're going right now," Greg put the smaller messenger bag strap over his head to carry it across his chest. With a little one in tow, supplies were needed. He bent to open the mini fridge and found his well prepared partner had it stocked with bottles of water, juice, beer and juice boxes. Greg placed one of the juice boxes in his bag while Helena dashed to the patio door and grasped the handle. 

"Here, we're not going that way. I don't know if we can lock that door from the outside. We'll go out the proper way," Greg held out his hand. 

"Oh!" the child was exasperated by his constant delays and did not hesitate to show it. Helena took her father's hand and walked out into the corridor with him. She had well enough of that after five seconds and let go of his hand to run ahead.


	6. Training Camp

Chapter 6: Training Camp

The Arsenal players wore their home kit of red short sleeved jersey and white shorts on the pitch, where they hosted the visiting FC Internazionale Milano in their blue shirts. The second half was well underway when Viktor Krum leaped up in the air, and caught with his head the ball the Italian Keeper had kicked out of the fray in front of his net. It landed perfectly in place before Andrey Arshavin's feet and the equally skilled Russian drilled the ball home, through a forest of legs, directly into the Italian net past the confounded Milano Keeper. The Arsenal players, led by Cesc Fabregas and Robin Van Persie, split up to jump on Viktor and Andrey both while the stands cheered. Viktor grabbed hold of his teammates as they grabbed him and whooped and cheered with them. He knew his family would be here any moment, if they were not already, and hoped that they had seen it. When his daughter, and his partner especially, expressed their pride in him, those were among the best moments of Viktor's life. He did not take the time to look for them. In the small stands here, completely unlike Emirates Stadium, he could have easily spotted them, but he would not allow himself to be distracted. While the desires of his heart may have been elsewhere, his mind and soul were in the game he so loved to play. 

It was Kieran who spotted them as they walked into the stands. Front and center, behind where Arséne Wenger paced with his usual scowl, the designated Gunner substitutes sat in close proximity to their opponent counterparts. 

"Hey, it's Viktor's family!" Kieran was quickly out of his seat and trotted off toward them. 

"Do you see him? Do you see him?" Helena bounced beside her father. 

"Come up here, my girl," Greg squatted down to snatch his daughter up in his arms. She was only too happy to hold onto him and straddle his left hip as he lifted her up. 

"You see him?" Greg asked. 

"No!" Helena leaned with wide eyes searching diligently.

"Look over there," Greg pointed. "You see daddy's number, number nine? There he goes," Greg moved his arm as Viktor ran with his team down the pitch. 

"I see him! I do!" Helena beat her father in his shoulder with her little fist. "Daddy! Daddy!" she shrieked. 

"Don't let's we distract him now. Daddy's at work," Greg set his daughter back down. Kieran reached them at that moment. 

"Greg, you made it," Kieran hugged the taller man with a warm smile. Viktor's mate and child were on the very short list of people with whom the normally shy Gunner felt comfortable. 

"Hi, Kieran," Greg embraced the shorter man. 

"Hi, Helena," Kieran squatted down to greet her. 

"Hi, Kieran," she put her hand on his shoulder while she leaned to kiss his cheek. 

"Your dad is gonna be so happy to see you," Kieran beamed. 

"Me too!" she could hardly contain herself. 

"You too, of course," Kieran said to Greg as he stood back up. 

"Kieran, you have no idea," Greg shook his head. 

"I think I might," Kieran laughed. "Come sit with us," he bid and took a step back toward the player's seats. 

"You want to go sit with daddy's teammates, Lene?" Greg asked. 

"Yes!" Helena was all for that idea. Greg took her hand and they set off behind Kieran. While it was quite clear that they were with Kieran, the local Austrian police, all two of whom were on hand in the name of crowd control on their off hours, knew only the letter of the rules. The policeman in the vicinity stepped up to Greg and held up a hand while speaking sternly in German. 

"I'm sorry. I don't speak German," Greg explained. 

"These seats are for the players only," he repeated stiffly in English. 

"They're with me," Kieran spoke up. 

"These seats are for the players only," the unwavering officer stressed again with a pointed finger. 

"Oh," Kieran backed down quickly. "Um," he stammered. 

"Quite alright, Kieran," Greg began. 

Theo Walcott, who had been sitting next to Kieran before he went to greet Viktor's family, watched this exchange and was quickly up out of his seat. 

"No, no, no, no," Theo walked over. He stepped between them, put his arm around Greg's shoulders and took Helena by the hand. Theo looked the officer pointedly in the face, "Our families sit with us. Just get that." He led Greg and Helena to the Arsenal team stand and Kieran followed. 

"Thank you, Theo. We didn't mean to cause a ruckus," Greg apologized. 

"You weren't the cause of that problem," Theo said. "Make yourselves comfortable," he patted Greg on the back. 

"Thank you," Greg smiled. He could only admire the young, straight man for standing up for his gay teammate's partner and child. "Let's sit down, Lene," Greg bid as they did so. "Are you thirsty? You want a juicebox?"

"Yes, please," she said sweetly as her father pulled one from his bag and stuck the attached straw into it. 

"How about one of those fruit strip things?" Greg asked further as he produced that as well. 

"Oh, yes, please," Helena agreed. She made herself busy chewing and sipping. 

"It's as close to tea as you're going to get," Theo smiled. 

"That's right," Kieran agreed. "The Austrians don't seem to know about tea." 

"Are we going to tell them?" Helena asked innocently. 

"I don't think they're much interested, Lene," Greg ran a hand down the back of her head. "What they do have here is rather excellent coffee. We promised we would bring some back for uncle Vince." 

"We did?" Helena asked. 

"We did," Greg confirmed. 

"Then we should do it," she reasoned. 

"And so we shall," Greg smiled at his daughter. "So why aren't you boys playing?" he asked the two twenty one year old players. 

"We played the first half," Theo gave a shrug. 

"Theo and I have been named to the England national team!" Kieran was clearly as proud as he had every right to be. 

"You have? That's corking, that is. Congrats to both of you," Greg patted the nearer Kieran on the back. "And well deserved, I must say." 

"So we just thought we'd take it easy, yeah? Let the old guys play while they still can," Theo joked. As if anyone other than Arséne had any say as to who played where and when. 

"Charming, you are. Just you let the old guys hear you say that," Greg threatened. 

"We tease them all the time," Theo dismissed. 

"Us and Aaron and Jack," Kieran mentioned the youngest in the First Team, twenty year old Aaron Ramsey and nineteen year old Jack Wilshere. 

"What dreadful children you are," Greg shook his head. 

Their attention was taken by the arrival of Tomas Rosicky and his family. The Czech Gunner was dressed in his kit and had left some time ago. The look on Arséne's face made it clear that the Frenchman was not amused that one of his players had walked away from the substitute bench during a game. Tomas held his daughter Eliska by the hand, while his son Damek followed closely behind. Anezka Rosicka walked with her seventeen year old sister Baruska, who had taken the train down from Olomouc, where they were all from in the Czech Republic. Damek wore a simple tee shirt and shorts and had shaggy dark hair like his father. Eliska was dressed much like Helena in a frilly shirt and ankle length pants, and her long dark hair was pulled into pig tails. The women were casual in polo shirts and shorts, and big sun glasses. 

"Tomas' family is here too, I see," Greg commented. "Tomas, Anezka," he greeted with a wave. "Hi, Damek, Eliska," Greg smiled at their children. Damek was polite enough to give a wave back. 

"They came in four days ago," Kieran commented. 

"Hello, Greg, Helena," Tomas smiled. Greg noticed that his daughter slid to the edge of her seat. 

"Would you like to go play with Eliska and Damek?" Greg asked. Helena only nodded vigorously in answer. Eliska's head was turned ever toward the other little girl, making her desire as plain. 

"Go ahead," Greg gave his permission. He watched his daughter slide out of her seat and skip over to the Rosicky family. "You've got another one," Greg called. 

"Is fine," Tomas gave a wave and a smile. Helena sat herself down beside Eliska and the two began to natter away. 

"Hey, Greg," Jack Wilshere greeted as he and Aaron Ramsey walked over. 

"You just get in?" Aaron asked as they sat down on the next level up behind Greg and Kieran. 

"Hi, boys. We did. Just flew in, just now," Greg confirmed. 

"What do you think of the place?" Aaron gestured. 

"Is this your first time here?" Jack tag teamed. 

"Second, and I love it here. It's so beautiful," Greg looked around at the mountains. "First time we've brought Helena, though. I think she'll like it." 

"This place has like ten or twelve pools and the big outdoor ones, over at the Heiltherme spa building, are popular with kids," Aaron advised.

"I always see a lot of kids there. Tomas' kids have gone every day since they got here," Jack added. 

"We'll have to check that out. Thanks, mates," Greg smiled. 

Out on the pitch, Lukasz paced back and forth before the Arsenal goal, ever alert. With Cesc, Viktor and Andrey in the midfield, it was very difficult for their opponents to penetrate to him. With Armand Traore and Thomas Vermaelen defending behind them, it was harder still. Viktor intercepted a kick from an Italian forward and passed it efficiently to Cesc, who passed it right back as the Italians converged on him. With a congestion of men around them in the midfield, Viktor sent the ball back toward his own defenders. Armand kicked the ball over them and delivered it to the far end of the field. Marouane zipped in from the flank on his long, fast legs and caught the Keeper out of his box. The ball sank easily, without obstruction, into the Italian net. 

Greg took to his feet and cheered just as loudly as the Gunners around him. Helena and the other children jumped up and down. At final whistle, Arsenal beat Internazionale Milano 4-1. As was their habit when they won a game, Cesc, Viktor, Carlos, Robin and Armand all pulled their shirts off and threw them in the air. Viktor was then gripped with single minded determination as he ran toward the team stand, looking for his family. He knew, barring air travel or airport delays, that they should be here by now. Greg saw delight light up Viktor's face when the man's eyes found him. Viktor ran even faster into the stands. Greg opened his arms with a giant smile and stepped forward as his partner ran up to him. Viktor closed his eyes as he grabbed the love of his life and hugged him much too hard. 

"Oof!" Greg felt the air rush out of his lungs and feared for his ribs as his lover crushed him in his strong arms in his exuberance. Viktor did not even notice. He pulled back enough to look Greg in the face. 

"Where our momichentse?" Viktor asked with wide eyes. He was as eager to see his daughter as his partner. Helena had been hampered in her search for her other father by the adults that stood around her obstructing her view. She turned to look at Greg at that moment and found her other dad in his arms. 

"Daddy!" Helena shrieked. "Daddy!" she rushed into his arms as Viktor bent to scoop her up. 

"My princess! Oh, my princess," Viktor snuggled her and took great care not to hurt her in his strong arms. "Daddy miss you so much." 

"Daddy, you're all wet!" Helena complained. 

"I know, is sweat," Viktor did not care. Greg could only stand by them and beam as the two people he loved most in all the world expressed their love for each other. 

"We miss you when you're gone, Tatee," Helena remembered to use the Bulgarian word. 

"Oh!" Viktor held her head to his. "Tatee miss you too," he reached out to Greg and pulled his lover to him such that they had their daughter between them. Viktor's emotions threatened to get the better of him. These two people were his whole world. And he knew Greg was responsible for their daughter calling him by the name that most melted his heart. Helena laid her head on Viktor's broad bare shoulder and just relaxed in his safety and strength. 

"Tatee put you down now, Princess. Must hug daddy more," Viktor stepped back and set his daughter down on her feet. He then took Greg back in his arms and this time did not crush him. Greg closed his eyes and just breathed in the comforting and manly scent of his strong lover. Yes, Viktor was all sweaty, but Greg did not care at all. The Gunners who had been sitting with Greg stood around them. 

"Kiss him!" Kieran urged. 

"C'mon, then," Theo joined in. "You know you want to snog his face off," he patted Viktor on the back. Viktor looked into Greg's eyes and took hold of his head with both hands. He brought their faces together and gave his partner a soft and loving kiss on his lips. 

"Yeah!" Theo, Jack, Aaron, Kieran and Lukasz, who had also joined them and yet wore his Keeper's gloves, cheered and patted both men on the back. Helena too delighted in her fathers' expressions of affection for each other, and jumped up and down beside them. Viktor pulled back and smiled as he gazed into his lover's warm brown eyes. 

"I am so happy now you are both here," Viktor confessed. 

"Me too, Vik. We both are," Greg assured. Viktor noticed the smiling faces of his younger teammates. 

"Did cute young boys keep you company?" Viktor asked. 

"Oh, are there cute boys? I hadn't noticed," Greg teased back. Theo, Jack, Aaron and Kieran all patted their backs again. 

"Gunners!" Cesc clapped his hands over his head to get their attention. Their leader wished to speak. 

"Gentlemen," Arséne began, "you played an excellent game today. Analysis can wait. I hope you will all join me for the cocktail reception this evening. For now, go be with your families," he even, almost, gave a smile. The Gunners cheered again. 

"Come," Viktor took both his partner and his daughter by their hands. "Did you go to room? I left key at desk." 

"We did," Greg confirmed. 

"I get room so you could see us. Did you see?" Viktor asked. 

"We did," Greg repeated. 

"We go back to room now. I shower," Viktor stated. "Oh! Let me get bag," he turned back to retrieve his gym bag from where it was stashed with the others under the stands. 

"Viktor," the seventeen year old Czech girl walked over to them. 

"Oh, Baruska. Meet my family," Viktor bid. "This my partner Grigor and my daughter Helena. This Baruska, Tomas' wife sister."

"Hi, Grigor," Baruska took Greg's offered hand. "Viktor tell me all about you. Is nice to finally meet you. And I already have pleasure of meeting your very pretty girl," she ran a hand over Helena's head. "I just want to say that if you two would like someone to look after Helena while you go to team party, I am happy to do it. I will have Damek and Eliska and we watch movie. Shrek probably." 

"Can I go, Tatee?" Helena tugged on his hand. 

"You can go, Princess," Viktor smiled down on her. 

"Thank you so much, Baruska. Most kind," Greg smiled. 

"Okay, I see you around seven?" Baruska did not wait for a reply as she gave a wave and headed back to her sister and family. 

"Nice to meet you," Greg called after her. "That was nice of her to offer. Give me that," he took Viktor's bag from him. 

"Now we both go to party," Viktor took Greg's hand again. "Come."

"Not that I want you to put it on, mind you, but do you want to get your shirt?" Greg glanced back at the pitch. 

"Towel boys will get it," Viktor did not look back as he led his family by their hands. 

"I'd like to be your towel boy," Greg gave his lover a leer. 

"Ah. You make me want do things I not do with other towel boys," Viktor smiled broadly. 

"I should bloody well hope not," Greg squeezed his lover's hand back as they proceeded up the lawn toward the hotel. 

Once in the hotel and down their wing, Greg pulled his key card from his pocket and admitted them to their room. Helena would not let go of her long absent father's hand. 

"Look, Tatee, this one is my bed. Baby likes this one too. She's going to sleep with me," Helena jabbered away. "She likes the view. She watched you play from here." 

"She did?" Viktor played along. "She is very clever, like you!" he watched Greg reach into the bag that had been left on the bed. "Princess, Tatee has present for you." 

"You do? What is it? Let me see!" Helena grabbed hold of his shorts and jumped up and down. Greg slipped the game into Viktor's hand from behind.

"Look! Is new game for Leapster," Viktor presented it. 

"Penguins!" Helena screeched. 

"Penguins of Madagascar, Operation Plushy Rescue," Greg informed. 

"Daddy, I love penguins!" she gushed. 

"Do you want play now?" Viktor asked. 

"Yes! Play it with me!" Helena was excited. 

"Daddy will help you while I take shower," Viktor smiled. 

"No!" she stomped her foot. "Play it with me!" 

"Let Tatee take his shower. He won't be a tick. C'mon, let's get your new game loaded," Greg took the game back from her and she followed along as he pulled her Leapster Explorer from her backpack. Viktor sat down on the bed that he would ever so happily share with his lover when they went to bed and pulled off his shoes and socks. Greg ripped the plastic off the game package as Viktor stood up and dropped his shorts. 

"Vik," Greg forced himself to be casual as his partner adjusted himself in his jock pouch. 

"What?" Viktor asked. 

"Would you like some help with that?" Greg looked from Viktor's face, to the packed Bulgarian jock, and back up. 

"Oh, yes," Viktor's face lit up. "Much help, I need." 

"Now is not the best time, more's the pity. Please take that in the bath before I behave very inappropriately," Greg spoke softly and evenly. 

"I go," Viktor smiled. He took a moment to run his hand down his abdomen and over his full pouch before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. 

"Here we are then," Greg inserted the new game into the Leapster. "Sit up here," he patted the bed. 

"Take what in the bath?" Helena asked. Sometimes she paid her fathers just a little too much attention for Greg's comfort. 

"His big, sweaty bum," Greg covered quickly. "Actually, I think I best check that daddy has his shampoo. Just play your game," he rose and headed to the bathroom. Helena was focused on her game for the moment, but Greg knew he had only seconds. He slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Viktor was breathtakingly naked and just leaning to turn on the shower. Greg stood still with his mouth open while this magnificent, naked, Bulgarian, footballer vision, who belonged to him completely, turned to face him. Viktor said nothing as the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. Greg stepped up to Viktor and cupped his lover's heavy cock and balls in his hand. 

"Oh my God," Greg murmured to himself. Greg felt his own cock stir in his pants as Viktor's heavy nuts rested in his palm. Viktor ran his hands up over Greg's shoulders as his serpent began to wake from his lover's touch. 

"Oh my God," Greg said again as he watched the big penis expand. "I have to get out of here. Please hurry," he bid and slipped out of the bathroom as quickly as he went in. His daughter, thankfully, did not even look up from her new game. Greg placed one hand to cover the obvious bulge in his jeans as casually as he could and walked across the room to sit at the table. While he was deep in thought, he brought a hand to his face. It was the hand that had held his lover's stones and the manly scent of Viktor's sweaty crotch was still very much on his hand. "Oh my God," Greg mumbled yet again. His erection would never subside this way. He put his hand flat on the table to calm himself. His hardness was just gone by the time Viktor emerged from the bathroom. The sight of his hot Gunner partner in just a towel cinched about his waist was enough to bring it right back. 

"Daddy, come play with me!" Helena boisterously demanded. 

"Okay," Viktor climbed onto the bed to recline against the headboard beside his daughter. "Show me how do the squirrels go," he teased as she happily nestled under his arm. 

"No, Daddy! They're penguins!" she stressed the fact. 

"They are very funny penguins. You are sure they are penguins? Maybe they are sea otters," Viktor looked at Greg and both men suppressed their smiles. 

"Daddy, focus," Helena held her arm out straight to emphasize her point. "Penguins." 

"Oh, penguins. Da, I see now," Viktor nodded. Helena shook her head. Sometimes parents could be so dense. Greg slipped his shoes and socks off, and put his feet up on the bed. Viktor smiled as his lover rubbed his feet with his own. Greg returned his partner's smile while he gently rubbed their feet together. It was a subtle way for them to be in loving, physical contact while their daughter demanded all of their attention. 

Viktor was permitted to rise to put clothes on only when it was time to get something to eat. He put on snug jeans that moulded to his muscular glutes and thighs, and a polo shirt that stretched across his chest. Greg closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose once his partner was dressed. Viktor was no less hot in this than in just his towel. Helena held her Bulgarian father's hand as they walked through the hotel to the Spring Restaurant. They were seated in close proximity to tables with other children and while their daughter was well beyond a highchair, she did benefit from a booster seat. Greg ordered the goat cheese raviolis in a tomato sauce with fresh basil, while his hungry man enjoyed the prime rib. Helena was very happy with her breaded and fried chicken fingers with chips from the children's menu. 

"Tell me more of Ashok," Viktor bid as he cut his steak. 

"Daddy, I love Ashok," Helena answered as if he were speaking to her.

"You do, Princess?" Viktor smiled. 

"He's so much fun. We play in the park all the time," Helena added. 

"He certainly seems very happy," Greg picked up with an adult perspective. "I think he and Rick are falling for each other." 

"Oh, yes?" Viktor asked with raised eyebrows. "That would be very good thing." 

"I think so too," Helena agreed. Both men looked to their daughter with amused smiles. 

"You do?" Greg asked. 

"Uncle Rick smiles a lot more now that he has Ashok," Helena made her observation with a chicken strip in one hand and a chip in the other. 

"You know, Lene, I believe he does at that," Greg smiled. "Mmm," he set his utensils down and wiped his mouth. "I have another shot I don't think I sent you," Greg pulled his phone from his pocket and began to scroll through his photographs. "You should see the ones some cheeky bastard sent me in the airport this morning," he gave his partner a sly glance. Viktor only chuckled as he chewed. 

"Here we are," Greg handed over his phone. Viktor looked at a picture of Rick and Ashok that was clearly taken in the park. Rick sat on a park bench with his arm around the Indian. Both men's hair was disheveled and both wore short sleeved shirts with several top buttons open. Ashok looked at the camera with a broad white smile on his tilted head. Rick looked at Ashok. On his face the tenderness that he felt toward the younger man was abundantly clear. This picture, snapped before Rick was ready and looking at the camera with his mask in place, spoke volumes. 

"Oh, yes," Viktor nodded. 

"Let me see!" Helena reached. 

"Lene, you were there. Ashok, it would seem, is a better Peter Pan than I am," Greg pointed out. 

"He is, but I love you more, Daddy," Helena made a sad face at Greg. 

"And I love you, my girl. I just want you to have fun. Anyway," Greg added for the other adult, "it gives me time to chat with Rick while they play." 

"What does he say?" Viktor asked. 

"He’s very conflicted, but he did admit that they've gotten up to some adult activities," Greg informed. "The way Ashok looks at him, I might have guessed as much." 

"Oh, yes?" Viktor asked with raised eyebrows. "Ashok is ready for this?"

"Ashok initiated it, evidently," Greg clarified. 

"You said they sleep together," Viktor remembered aloud. 

"Like you do?" Helena asked. 

"Very like us, Lene," Greg answered with a smile. 

"That's good," Helena concluded with a nibble of chicken. 

"I think is very good," Viktor agreed. "H no good," he waved his steak knife to emphasise his point. 

"What kind of adult activity, Daddy?" Helena asked. 

"Might know you'd latch onto that," Greg smiled. He looked to his partner. "You want to help me here?"

"No," Viktor shook his head and sat back with a broad, amused smile. "Explain," he gestured. 

"Well, Lene, you know how sometimes daddies need some daddy time? It's rather like that," Greg began. 

"Rick and Ashok aren't daddies," her simplistic logic was inescapable. 

"Adults don't need to be daddies to engage in adult activities. When we say daddy time, what we mean is adult time," Greg expounded. 

"But what do you do?" Helena pressed. Viktor's smile only grew. 

"We do silly adult things that you will only appreciate when you're older," Greg evaded. 

"After my birthday?" Helena asked. 

"Da, after birthday," Viktor confirmed with a nod. 

"Not necessarily this next one," Greg clarified. "And by the time we're ready to speak frankly with you about it, you'll probably know more than we do." 

"She will explain us!" Viktor enthused. 

"I shall remind you both of this conversation when that charming day comes," Greg stated while his partner chuckled. "At any rate, I think it was more just needing that physical union and comfort for them, the first time. But after that, it rather seems to have grown into more. In fact, Ashok made a suggestion for a sharing arrangement that Rick is actually considering." 

"No,” Viktor was resolute. “Sharing no good. H no good." 

"You know very well that I agree. Fortunately, Rick doesn’t want to keep things from H, or lie to him, so he intends to tell H everything about Ashok. Needless to say, I strongly encouraged him to be honest and forthright,” Greg relayed. A smile crossed the Bulgarian's face. 

"You say this hoping H react very bad," Viktor pointed at his lover with his fork. He knew Greg better than anyone. 

"I do suppose it's possible that H will fly off the handle and react quite badly. One might even say that's quite likely. H might even break things off with Rick, we could only hope," Greg confessed. 

"My slunchitze so smart," Viktor praised. 

"We'll see. Rick is supposed to see H tomorrow. With any luck Rick will come away from that encounter a free man. It will hurt him, of course, but he'll be the better for it in the end," Greg expressed. 

"I don't want uncle Rick to get hurt," Helena said thoughtfully as she nibbled at a chip. 

"We don't either, Lene," Greg agreed. 

"Ashok will take care of him," Helena gave a satisfied nod. 

"I believe he will at that," Greg smiled. 

"I much like Ashok already," Viktor stated. "I very much like to meet him." 

"He's looking forward to meeting you, actually," Greg informed. 

"Oh, yes?" Viktor asked. 

"Seems his playmate has told him all about you," Greg added. Viktor only smiled at them both as he chewed. 

After dinner they headed back to their room and it was bath time. Viktor called his teammate's room and verified that the other kids were getting washed up as well. The kids would snuggle in for a movie and go to sleep, and Greg and Viktor could pick their little one up at the end of their evening. They would just carry her to her bed and tuck her in. 

"C'mon, Lene. Bath time," Greg called as he switched closed the tub drain and turned on the water. "You want strawberry or peach or banana bath?" he walked to where the big carry on bag yet lay on the one bed. 

"I want Tatee," Helena declared. 

"C'mon, pick one," Greg held out the travel size bottles to her. 

"I want the peach bath, and the strawberry shampoo, and I want Tatee!" Helena made a fist. 

"Alright, he'll be off the phone in a minute. Let's get started," Greg took her hand and she willingly followed into the bathroom. By the time Greg had pulled Helena's clothes off of her, Viktor joined them in the bathroom. 

"Little naked girl, fly into tub!" Viktor snatched her up and lifted her high into the air before setting her down gently on her butt in the warm water. Helena giggled the whole way. The water was already sudsing from the peach bath and Helena splashed to make it even more so. 

"Where is mermaid Barbie?" Helena asked. 

"Did you bring her?" Viktor asked. 

"Of course I did," Greg walked back out to the bag and returned with their daughter's bathmate. "Here we are." 

"Thank you, Daddy," Helena took the doll and promptly dove her under the water. 

"Here is washycloth," Viktor took one from the rack and handed it to her. 

Greg walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed that he would share with his lover for the first time in a month. He laid back and gave a sigh. It had been a long day. He listened to the sounds of his partner and their daughter in the bath, both having a good time. It always stung a little bit when Helena preferred her other father over him. Intellectually he understood it. It made perfect sense. She had missed Viktor too and for a child a month was a damn long time. Of course she had been all over him from the moment they arrived. If he could get Viktor alone, for just a minute... Greg reached down to his crotch, within which his cock began to expand again. He closed his eyes and squeezed himself in his pants. 

"You think about me?" Viktor's asked in his deep and sultry voice as he emerged from the bathroom. Helena gleefully sang away to herself as she played with her doll in the bath. 

"I didn't hear you come out," Greg leaned up on his elbows. "I'm thinking about a certain sexy footballer that I'm dying to slobber all over just now." 

"Hmm," Viktor climbed onto the bed and straddled his partner. "I hope sexy footballer you want is me," he sat his ass down on Greg's crotch and pushed Greg back down flat on the bed as he leaned on his lover's chest. 

"There are quite a few to choose from here," Greg conceded as he ran his hands up to grip Viktor's solid pecs, "but there's only one that I want. The one who belongs to me," Greg leaned up again to brush his lips ever so gently against Viktor's goateed mouth. "My Gunner," he whispered. Viktor held still and closed his eyes as his lover kissed him so sweetly. 

"My love," Greg slowly captured Viktor's upper lip with both of his. Viktor could take it no more. He could feel Greg's erection through both their jeans and his own throbbed painfully, trapped down his left pantleg. Viktor laid out on top of Greg, covering his lover's mouth with his own as he did so. 

"Mmm!" Greg welcomed the forceful tongue as it invaded his mouth. He ran his hands up and down Viktor's torso as his lover kissed him with wanton hunger. 

"Tay obicham, Grigor," Viktor spoke against his partner's lips. 

"I love you too, Vik," Greg wrapped his arms around Viktor and hugged him as tightly as he could. 

"Miss you very much. Whole body ache for you," Viktor whispered and gave Greg a soft kiss. 

"Mine too, very much so," Greg agreed. 

"Want you inside me. Want you make love to me," Viktor kissed Greg again. 

"Oh my God," Greg could feel himself leak in his pants. "I want that too, Vik. So very badly," he confessed. 

"Daddy!" Helena called from the tub. 

"I come, Princess," Viktor called. 

"Oh, how I wish that were true, and in my mouth," Greg closed his eyes. Viktor rose up on all fours and moved down the bed. He paused when his face was level with Greg's crotch. He knelt on the floor and took hold of Greg's hips as he laid his chest down between Greg's spread legs. 

"Oh my God!" Greg moaned as his lover's face rubbed against his straining erection through his jeans. 

"We not have to go to party," Viktor looked up at Greg from between his legs. Greg looked down at him and smiled. This hot Bulgarian looked so sexy like that, even if they were both still fully dressed. 

"I don't want to keep you from your teammates. I think we should go, though I suppose no one's to know how long we stayed," Greg suggested. 

"I so hungry for you," Viktor kissed along the obscenely thick, fat bulge in the Brit's pants. 

"Daddy!" Helena shrieked this time. 

"Yes, Princess," Viktor rose and headed back into the bathroom, covering himself with his hands as he went. "Are you washed? Time for hair," he walked with difficulty from his own erection, contained down his tight pantleg. Greg reached down to grip himself again. He could not remember being so ready to explode, while still in his clothes, since he was a teenager. Every other time Viktor was away at camp excluded, of course. 

Soon Helena was dry, her teeth brushed and dressed in her long sleeved nightgown. Like Viktor, Tomas Rosicky had moved when his family arrived, from his room with Emmanuel Eboue into his own with a king bed for him and his wife. They had a connecting room with two doubles for their children and the kids' aunt Baruska. Fortunately for Greg and Viktor, the Rosicky rooms were just down the hall from theirs. Helena held Viktor's hand as they walked the short way down the corridor. She carried her baby under her other arm. 

"Hello there," Baruska opened the door and stepped aside. Damek came to the door to greet his guest as well. The seven year old was also dressed for bed in pajama bottoms and a tight, white tank top. 

"Ahoj, Helena," Damek greeted in Czech with a smile. He took her hand from Viktor and led her into the room where his little sister was already ensconced on the far bed amongst the pillows in her pajamas. Viktor and Greg followed into the room. 

"Ready for your movie?" Greg asked with a smile. 

"We are just ready to order," Baruska picked up the television remote. Greg and Viktor watched Damek help Helena up onto the bed and the two of them settle in with Eliska. Damek sat in the center and was perfectly content with two little sisters, one under each arm. Each little girl held her own baby and the five of them, three children and two dolls, were ready for their evening. 

"They are so cute together," Greg commented. 

"They are," Viktor agreed and slipped an arm around his partner. Greg pulled his phone out of his pocket and took their picture. 

Tomas and Anezka came through the connecting door from their room at that moment. He wore a simple button shirt and jeans while his wife wore a flowery dress. 

"Everyone is ready?" Tomas asked the children as much as the adults. 

"Evening, boys," Anezka smiled as she finished affixing her earrings. 

"Evening, Anezka. You look lovely," Greg greeted. 

"You are so sweet," she patted the Brit on his cheek. 

"Everyone behave. Mind your aunt Baruska," Tomas commanded. Greg noted that he did so in English so that everyone would understand. 

"We will, Dad," Damek spoke for the children. 

"You have numbers, Baruska," Tomas kissed his sister-in-law on her cheek as he made for the door. 

"Here's our numbers as well, just in case you need anything, right?" Greg handed the younger woman a piece of paper on which he had written them earlier. "Ring me up just now so I'll have your number," he bid. Baruska picked up her phone and dialed Greg. 

"There we are," Greg smiled as her incoming call popped up. She cancelled the call and they both slipped their phones into their pockets. 

"Have good time," Baruska saw them all out. The four parents headed down the corridor toward the center of the hotel. 

"You came in a few days ago, Anezka?" Greg asked. 

"Oh, yes. I love training camp time. I love it here. Next year I come for whole week!" Anezka enthused. 

"She spend every day in spa," Tomas informed. 

"That why I have my sister take train down to join us. She spend day with kids while Tomas at work and I at spa," Anezka smiled. 

"Sounds like a good plan," Greg nodded. "I'm sure the kids are having a good time too." 

"They love the playground and especially the pool," Anezka confirmed. 

"My kids are little fish. At least they are clean. They in water all the time," Tomas added. 

"Perhaps we'll join the kids at the pool tomorrow," Greg ventured. 

"We only have short meeting in morning," Viktor stated. "We can all go." 

"You can go. I have massage and seaweed wrap," Anezka countered. 

"We go," Tomas patted the bigger Bulgarian arm next to him. "We meet you there." 

"Brilliant," Greg agreed. 

They walked through the hotel, from the north wing where their rooms were located and out the other end of the west wing. A lighted stone path led them through the cool mountain evening to the adult only Quellenoasis buildings and pools. Here there were sun decks, a natural infinity edged lake with a hot tub for twenty people built into it. There were multiple saunas and steam rooms and an indoor pool and patio bar that could be used year round. The natural and harmonious earth tones of the grounds and buildings were highlighted by the bright orange of the big umbrellas over every outdoor table. Arsenal had reserved this pool lounge for the evening for their private reception. Hotel staff intercepted them at the door. Their names were checked and they were ushered inside. It was one of those rare occasions when Greg saw the Gunners in their own clothes, rather than their kit. And it never failed to impress him what a good bunch of guys the Arsenal men were. The Gunners welcomed him warmly with genuine smiles every bit as much as Tomas' wife, or any of the other straight teammate's girlfriends. In fact, possibly even more so. The Gunners were respectful of the wives and girl friends in a way they were not with him. Greg was always welcomed with claps on the back like he was just one of the guys. And tonight the first one to do so was Andrey Arshavin. 

"Greg, good to see you!" the Russian enthused. "Thank you for coming, take this big lug off my hands." 

"The pleasure is all mine, Andrey. Nice arse, by the way," Greg teased. 

"Oh, you like?" Andrey turned and rubbed his butt. "Is nice as Bulgarian arse?"

"It's lovely, but not quite, I'm afraid," Greg patted the shorter man on his shoulder. 

"Aww, damn," Andrey pretended to be disappointed. Viktor just chuckled and grinned while his partner and good friend bantered with each other. Jack, Aaron and Theo came along then. 

"Hi, Greg, Viktor," Theo greeted. 

"Hi, boys," Greg smiled. 

"Oh, Viktor," Jack stepped up to the slightly taller Bulgarian and laid his head on Viktor's shoulder ever so sweetly. He looked up at Viktor's amused face with big doe eyes and ran his hand over his older teammate's broad chest. Theo and Aaron worked very hard to contain themselves. 

"Here, little boy, don't you bat your eyelashes like that," Greg gave mock outrage. Jack paid his fellow Gunner's partner no mind as he just looked up from Viktor's shoulder and massaged the muscular pec. 

"You know drinking age here sixteen," Viktor finally informed. 

"What?" Jack lifted his head from Viktor's shoulder as Theo and Aaron burst out laughing. He stepped back from Viktor while his friends leaned on each other and doubled over as they guffawed. "You wankers bloody well knew that!" Jack smacked Theo on the back of his nearly shaved head where the laughing man was bent over in front of him. Theo only laughed the harder. "They had me convinced that we weren't old enough to drink here, like in America. Theo told me we would have to play up to the older guys to get a beer and that since I’m the youngest, I should go rub up on one of the gay blokes," Jack watched Theo wipe his eyes. "Wanker." 

"Oh my God, I'm gonna piss m'self," Theo laughed so hard he was crying. 

"That was a good one, Theo," Aaron complimented the ringleader. 

Jack looked to Viktor again and gave a shrug, "Sorry." 

"Is okay. Cute boy can lay head on shoulder any time," Viktor patted the nineteen year old on his butt. 

"Who need beer?" Lukasz asked as he and Kieran joined them at that moment, each carrying four beer bottles apiece. 

"What's going on?" Kieran asked as they passed out the bottles. 

"I'm gonna kick a couple of sorry arses, is what," Jack threatened as he took a swig. He then made an attempt to punch Theo on his upper arm, but the other Gunner's reflexes were too quick. Theo took off, Aaron was right behind, and Jack gave pursuit. 

"I wonder what they would have gotten him to do for a whole case?" Greg mused aloud. 

"What they do?" Lukasz asked. 

"They get Jack to rub up on me for beer. They tell him he too young," Viktor informed. 

"Oh!" Lukasz found that equally amusing. "Tell them me next." 

"I'm so glad you're here, Greg," Kieran hugged his fellow Brit and teammate's partner again. 

"Very glad to be here, Kieran," Greg rubbed the smaller man's back. 

"Where's Helena?" Kieran asked. 

"She's with Tomas' kids," Greg gestured. 

"Na zdrowie," Lukasz raised his bottle. 

"Cheers, mates,"Greg joined them all as they touched the necks of their bottles together and took a hearty swig. 

"You go to Bulgaria to see your family?" Lukasz clapped Viktor on the back. 

"Da. We have day tomorrow to relax, then we go," Viktor confirmed. 

"My original plan was to come earlier, right? Spend about a week, but something else came up quite unexpectedly," Greg stated. 

"Oh, yeah," Kieran remembered. "I meant to ask you about that." 

Two more men joined them at that moment. The only two Muslim men on the team, they were the Mutt and Jeff of Arsenal. Samir Nasri was the shortest man on the team and Marouane Chamakh was the tallest. Samir was of Algerian heritage, though born and raised in France. Marouane had been born and raised in Morocco, though had begun his career in France. He and Samir usually spoke French to each other and neither man had ever been to the Middle East. Like Greg and Viktor's friend Nasir, Samir and Marouane had no qualms about drinking alcohol. Both men held a beer bottle. 

"Hi, Greg," Marouane offered his hand. 

"Hello, mates," Greg smiled as he shook hands with both of them. 

"Viktor said you went to Dubai," Marouane picked up. 

"I did indeed," Greg confirmed. 

"What was it like?" Samir asked. 

"Bloody damn hot is what it was," Greg expressed. 

"Viktor said you brought back an Indian bloke whose partner was killed," Marouane prompted. 

"Yes," Greg nodded. "Our friend Nasir is from there. He lives in the Sates now, with his American partner. Did Vik tell you all this?"

"Only a little," Marouane answered. 

"You tell them," Viktor placed his arm on his partner's shoulder. 

"I'll start at the beginning then, right? Nasir's family arranged a marriage for him," Greg began. 

"My parents are doing the same for me," Marouane nodded. The antithesis of Nasir, Marouane was enthused about this prospect. 

"Really?" Greg asked. "Well, I'm sure you can appreciate what that means for a gay man. A gay man who is in a happy, committed and loving relationship with his partner in the States."

"Yes," Marouane nodded. "At least I like girls." 

"Exactly," Greg continued. "Nasir's family didn't know about him, of course." 

"They do now," Viktor pointed out. 

"Right. I mean, they didn't then," Greg clarified. "Anyway, he and Emmett flew to Dubai to meet with his wife to be, to see if they could come to some understanding, fully intending at that point to go ahead with the marriage." 

"Of course," Marouane nodded. "He would still have to get married. I have a cousin like that. He played around with one of my friends a few times. He got married and has two kids now, but he still meets guys on the side. No one in the family talks about it, but I know he does. I think my friend still meets with him sometimes. That's just how it is," he gave a shrug. Greg and Viktor gave a slow nod in unison. Here before them was an Arab man with an Arab point of view. At least partially. 

"Nasir and Emmett were trying to figure out how to do exactly that, I'm sure," Greg forged ahead. "I mean, in as much as they could do that. Emmett is Nasir's partner, not some random hook up to satisfy a sexual need. They love each other. They live together, just like Vik and I do. They are a couple, struggling, suddenly, to come to grips with their future together in all of this." 

"There are no gay couples in my country," Marouane shook his head. 

"Right, because there can't be, can there?" Greg observed. "I imagine Emmett and Nasir were hoping they could all live together, maybe. I don't really know exactly what they were hoping, but it all went horribly wrong and they just barely got out of the country with their lives. One of the family's servants was mistaken for Nasir by the men who came after them, and killed because of it. Shot dead right on the side of the road apparently. It just so happened that this servant was also gay and his partner was left alone and unable to mourn him or acknowledge his loss in any way. So we took it upon ourselves to go rescue him, if you will. And he's the sweetest kid you could ever hope to meet." 

"Now he with our friend Rick," Viktor stated. 

"We don't really know if that will happen, Vik," Greg corrected gently, "but that would be nice. They're both good men who deserve to be happy and loved." 

"That was one of the biggest adjustments for me when I came to Europe," Marouane confessed. "In my country gay people don't live openly and talk about it." 

"Is not so easy in my country either, yet," Viktor stated. 

"Is same in Russia," Andrey added. 

"I love being able to know people like you and Viktor, and Lukasz and Kieran. Is better here, I think," Marouane nodded to himself as he thought out loud. 

"Well, the world would be a better place if more people thought like you do, mate," Greg raised his bottle. Marouane smiled and happily clinked the neck of his bottle with Greg's. 

"So what was it like in the Emirates? I've always wanted to go," Marouane took a swig from his bottle. 

"Me too," Samir chimed in. 

"Aside from being hot enough to melt our bloody faces off, it's a beautiful country," Greg expressed. "I might liked to have stayed longer, or at least taken some time to look round and enjoy the place. In the winter, I mean. There was a really beautiful mosque near Nasir's folks' place," he pulled out his phone. "Just give me a moment. There are some things on here that I'm quite sure you don't want to see." 

"I do! Let me see," Kieran moved out from under Lukasz's arm to peek around Greg's shoulder while he scrolled through his pictures. He covered his mouth and turned to his lover with big eyes when Greg passed the pictures Viktor sent him that morning. Greg deliberately clicked through them slowly while only he and Kieran could see them. 

"What you see, Slodki?" Lukasz asked. 

"Viktor's a big boy," Kieran commented. "He might be as big as you," he added as his partner took him back under his arm. All of them chuckled at this. 

"Here we are," Greg handed the phone to Marouane. "Al Huda, I think is the name of that mosque." 

"It is beautiful," Marouane endorsed. 

"It is! I would love to go to a mosque like that," Samir added. 

"You should see the Koutoubia Mosque in my home town. It's nine hundred years old, not new like this one. Next time I go home to Marrakesh, you should come with me," Marouane put a hand on his shorter friend's shoulder. "My mother would love you." 

"That's a great idea. I will," Samir heartily agreed. 

"We can't drink though," Marouane gestured with his bottle. 

"I don't care. There's plenty waiting for us when we get back," Samir gave a shrug. 

"Gunners!" Cesc called and clapped to get their attention. Everyone turned toward their Captain, who only stepped aside for Arséne. It irritated the manager no end that the team listened to Cesc far more readily than to him. And that was why, for the most part, that they did it. 

"I would just like to say a few words," Arséne began. "This is a very strong First Team. You have all worked and trained very hard. You are all in top form and very fit. I think that there is nothing this team cannot accomplish this season if we just remain focused and maximize our strengths. There is no reason this team should not win the Premier League, the Carling Cup, or even UEFA. Stay strong, work together, play with your hearts," the soft spoken Frenchman raised his wine glass. Arséne almost brought himself to smile as the Gunners cheered his words. "And now I think also Ivan would like to speak," he stepped back for the lone man in a suit. 

"I would also like to take a moment. Thank you, Arséne," Ivan Gazidis, the President and CEO of Arsenal Football Club, was an energetic and dynamic man. "Gentlemen, and significant others with us tonight, on behalf of the Board, I would like to state how very proud I am of this team. This is without question, the strongest team I have ever had the pleasure of seeing at Arsenal. Great things lie ahead for us. There is no doubt in my mind that this is Arsenal's year, and it will all be due to you. Thank you for all that you do for the club and the fans. Know that the Board and I are absolutely committed to this team and our future together. We are behind you all the way. You just go out there on that pitch and do what you do best. Where is Viktor?" it took Ivan a very brief moment to find his Bulgarian Gunner. "There he is. Viktor, Cesc," he put his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder, "let me just make this very clear, right here and now. Arsenal is your club. This is your home. Other teams may want you, but they can’t have you," Ivan attempted to put to rest the circulating rumors of offers from various other teams for both of them. This news was met with boisterously enthusiastic approval from the rest of the team. Greg took his partner's hand and smiled into his warm brown eyes. 

"And to the significant others who are here with us tonight," Ivan continued right on cue. "Thank you very much for all that you do. We would not be, and cannot be, who we are, without your love and support. Let's all have a fantastic year together!" Ivan raised his glass. It also irked Arséne that his Gunners cheered the CEO twice as loudly as they did him. 

Cheese trays and other nibbles circulated and people moved from one group to another in easy conversation. Only two people never left each other. Viktor kept his lover ever by his side. Even Kieran would occasionally leave Lukasz for a few minutes to engage in some tom foolery with the other younger members of the team. Each time he did the Pole only smiled after him. Kieran's excited and exuberant laugh never failed to bring Lukasz joy that he felt in his very soul. 

Greg noticed two men in suits that he did not recognize appear at the doorway to the lounge, but they did not come in. Nor did they wait long. Just as soon as Ivan Gazidis caught sight of them, he made a beeline for the door and disappeared with them. Greg thought to comment on it, but was distracted by the splash. 

With young men drinking and blowing off steam, it was inevitable. The loud splash could be heard even over the animated conversations of the large group. Greg, Viktor, Lukasz and Tomas turned to look, but could not see through the crowd. Suddenly a giggling Jack tore past them with Kieran right behind. While Jack continued to run, Kieran took refuge behind his lover. 

"What you do, Slodki?" Lukasz asked. The answer came in the form of Theo and Aaron, both of whom had quite obviously just been in the pool fully clothed. And just as obviously, against their will. Lukasz pulled his smaller partner further behind him and Viktor just instinctively closed ranks with the Pole. Theo paused while Aaron gave pursuit of Jack. 

"I'll get you, Kieran!" Theo warned with a pointed finger toward where Kieran peeked out between Lukasz and Viktor's shoulders. He knew there was nothing he could do now and took off in Aaron's wake, streaming water behind him. 

"I told Jack I would help him get them back," Kieran confessed. 

"I'd say you boys sure did," Greg chuckled. "Perhaps we should offer to help them out of those wet clothes," he wondered aloud. 

"I think it time I take my horny guy to bed," Viktor drained his latest beer bottle. 

"Now there is a lovely thought," Greg endorsed. 

"Enjoy," Lukasz and Kieran hugged them both. 

"Helena can spend night with kids, if you like. They all asleep by now anyway," Tomas offered. 

"What a sterling idea, Tomas,” Greg wholly agreed. “How good of you to offer.” 

"We go get tonight still if not too late,” Viktor and Tomas shared a one armed with no hip contact straight guy hug. "Say goodnight to Anezka." 

"I will," Tomas nodded. They bid a good evening to the other Gunners, most of whom were still present and headed out. Viktor took Greg's hand with a warm and loving smile as they walked along the lighted path back up to the hotel. 

“Are you sure about leaving her with the other kids for the night?” Greg asked his partner as they walked. “She’s missed you so. She’ll want to be with us when she wakes up.” 

“I so hungry for you, we not take long,” Viktor increased his pace as they entered the hotel. “Then we go get.” 

It took no time at all for them to reach their room. Greg had his card ready and quickly admitted them. Inside, they didn’t bother with the lights as they both immediately began to pull at the other’s clothes. Greg stopped Viktor from unbuttoning his shirt by pulling the footballer’s polo shirt off over his head. 

“It’s going to be so nice to sleep beside you tonight,” Greg ran his hands appreciatively over his Gunner’s broad chest. 

“Is for me too, Slunchitze,” Viktor finished the buttons on his lover’s shirt and pulled it out of his pants. Viktor leaned forward as he pushed the shirt off of Greg’s shoulders and bit Greg’s bare shoulder. 

“Oh, do you want to play rough?” Greg ran a hand over his Gunner’s muscular back. 

“Want you,” Viktor spoke into the shoulder beneath his lips as he popped the button on Greg’s jeans. Greg gripped the bulging outline of the big Bulgarian snake trapped down Viktor’s tight left pantleg. 

"I want to suck your cock so badly I can't even think!" Greg confessed.

“I warn you now, I make much noise. Wake whole hotel,” Viktor warned. He slipped his fingers into Greg’s open jeans while he kissed his way across Greg’s shoulder and up the side of his neck. 

“I don’t care if they can hear you in Vienna!” Greg opened Viktor’s jeans as well. Viktor slid his hands inside the back of Greg’s jeans to grip his lover’s butt. He worked Greg’s jeans down until the Brit’s pants were held up only by the protrusion of his hard spike. Greg gave a sigh as Viktor's hand reached into his pants and curled around his cock and balls. 

"I like hold you in my hand," Viktor carefully extracted his lover's equipment from his open pants and the jeans promptly fell to Greg's ankles. His lover's touch made Greg so hard that he ached. He briefly let his head fall back and closed his eyes while his partner fondled him. 

"You feel so good, Vik," Greg ran his hands down the Gunner's ribs and into the open jeans. He slowly moved his fingers through Viktor's trimmed pubes. "Let's get you out of these pants," Greg pushed the jeans down over the hard bubble butt. He continued to slowly push the snug jeans down Viktor's thighs, exposing the big snake trapped within, inch by beautiful inch. 

“Get on bed now,” Viktor commanded as he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them away. He smiled as he watched Greg pull down the bed and get into it. The sight of the hot Bulgarian’s hard rod swinging as he walked around the bed made Greg’s mouth water. Viktor slid into the bed and into Greg’s arms. Viktor held Greg tightly as their hard cocks were pressed together between their bodies. Greg caressed his lover's muscular back and butt. Viktor took hold of the back of Greg's head and guided their mouths together. Greg closed his eyes as his lover's tongue slipped into his mouth. This was not the hard, hungry kiss Viktor had given him earlier. This kiss was slow and sensual. Both men writhed gently against each other, their erections moving together between them. Hands roamed slowly over the body each man had missed so and now took such pleasure from exploring every familiar inch. 

Viktor broke their kiss only to push Greg over on his back. He kissed his way down Greg's throat and over his Adam's apple. Greg closed his eyes and gave a sigh. He loved the feel of his lover's slight goatee on his skin. Viktor kissed his way across Greg's collar bone as he ran his hand down his lover's body. He smiled against Greg's skin as his hand brushed by his lover's solid bone and he felt the wetness of precum smear across the back of his hand. Viktor moved his hand lower to cup and fondle Greg's shaved nuts. 

"I like to hold balls," Viktor whispered against Greg's neck. 

"I like it too," Greg agreed. Viktor gently massaged the swollen stones in their loose sac for a long moment. He looked down as he moved his hand to wrap it around the beer can thick cock. "I love my slunchitze thick kuro," Viktor used the Bulgarian equivalent slang word for dick as he slowly gave Greg an upward stroke. 

"Umm," Greg closed his eyes. Viktor was only turned on the more by the sight of more clear syrup running out of his lover's engorged pole. 

"Oh, slunchitze leak," Viktor caught much of the ooze on his thumb and brought it to Greg's chest, where he smeared it on Greg's right nipple. Greg only smiled, but any sense of amusement was quickly replaced by arousal as Viktor's hand returned to his cock and Viktor's tongue washed over his nipple. Viktor took back up his stroke as he licked up the precum that he had smeared on his lover's chest. 

"Ugh, Vik," Greg murmured softly. Viktor brought his lips into play on Greg's chest as he slowly jacked his lover's fat bone. 

"My God, I want to come so badly," Greg quietly confessed. 

"Come," Viktor lapped at Greg's nipple while his hand moved Greg's skin up and down the thick crank. Greg gave a soft moan asViktor gave wet kisses up his chest and throat. The hand that knew him well held him exactly the right way and moved at exactly the right pace. 

"Oh God, Vik," Greg began to tremble. 

"Come for me, Grigor," Viktor trailed his tongue slowly over his lover's Adam's apple. 

"Huh," Greg began to shudder as his entire body tensed up. Viktor knew only one way to keep his lover from crying out as he crashed over the edge. He covered Greg's mouth with his own even as Greg moaned again. It turned Viktor on no end when Greg moaned into his mouth that way. His own joint throbbed and he began to rock himself against Greg's hip. Viktor felt the fat cock in his hand grow even harder and shoved his tongue as far down Greg's throat as he could. He muffled with his mouth the whine Greg made that otherwise would have been such music to his ears as the British weapon went off in his hand. Greg grabbed Viktor's head and held him fast as his cum fountained out of his twitching organ. 

"Mm, mm," Viktor moaned softly back into Greg's mouth as he stroked him through his orgasm. Spurt after spurt painted Greg's abdomen. Greg released his grip on Viktor's head and Viktor broke their kiss, leaving him to pant. Viktor looked down and watched the last of his lover's cream ooze as he gave a last, gentle stroke. The scent of Greg's emission was strong in the air and it turned Viktor on even further. Viktor just held his lover's still hard bone and smiled down on him. 

"Did that feel good, Slunchitze?" Viktor gave Greg a soft kiss on his chin. 

"Oh my God," Greg continued to pant. "You don't know how much I needed that." 

"I do know," Viktor kissed Greg on his chest. "My Grigor so sexy," he kissed his way down Greg's torso until he came to the cooling streaks of jizz. Greg smiled as Viktor began to lap his spunk from him. Viktor licked up his lover's spilled juice from his lightly furry abdomen. He cleaned Greg with his tongue as best he may. Viktor found himself then too close to the source and entirely unable to resist it. He took Greg's ooze covered cock in his mouth. 

"Ugh," Greg moaned as his lover gently sucked his yet hard dick. Viktor slowly pulled his mouth off Greg's spike.

"Mmm. You smell like sexy boy," Viktor smiled. 

"I last had a shower in our bathroom at home and I've been traveling all day," Greg stated.

"I like. My slunchitze smell and taste so good," Viktor gave a lick across the serpent's eye. He moved back up and gave lick through Greg's mouth with his cummy tongue. "See how good?" 

"Hmm," Greg smiled. "I'd rather have your cum in my mouth." 

"Maybe in morning in shower," Viktor said as Greg put a hand to his face. Greg just caressed Viktor's cheek with his thumb a moment. 

"I was thinking more like right now," Greg flipped the sheet over them and slid down the bed. Viktor still lay on his side and his big, hard, leaking cock lay with it's head in a wet spot on the mattress. Greg nestled on his side, under the sheet, up to Viktor and took the Bulgarian snake in his mouth. Viktor held his breath as Greg went down on him. Greg’s throat was both talented and familiar, and made Viktor’s eyes roll back in his head. 

"Huh!" Viktor cried much out as his every inch sank into Greg’s throat. Greg took hold of the big Bulgarian eggs as he drew his mouth up Viktor's pole just far enough to suck a quick breath in through his nose. Viktor placed a hand on the lump that was Greg's head as it moved beneath the sheet. He felt his lover’s lips massage his shaft as Greg's mouth moved up and down his length. Greg's tongue moved on Viktor's sensitive cum tube and he could taste his Gunner's constantly leaking precum. He held Viktor's big stones in a firm, massaging grip as he began to suck the throbbing cock faster. 

"Mmph!" Viktor moaned as his lover's incredible mouth picked up speed as it bobbed on his straining prick. He needed this, and badly, but he hadn't realize how badly until Greg's lips encircled his aching penis. He groaned as Greg began to bob on his throbbing bone even faster. His eyes would have crossed had they been open. Greg was not interested in finesse and making slow, skillful love to his partner's big Bulgarian cock. Now was the time to just get his Gunner off. Opportunities would come for them to take their time and bring each other to an intense, shuddering climax. Right now they both just needed to release the built up pressure their separation had caused. And Greg craved Viktor's cum with his very soul. 

Viktor came in Greg's mouth the night before he left home for Austria, nearly a month ago, and he was about to do so again. He didn't try to hold out, he didn't want to. Viktor just wanted to come. And his lover sucked him so perfectly. Greg's lips clutched to his shaft just right. His lover's mouth moved on his meat with exactly the right rhythm. The skilled tongue moved on his sensitive cum tube with the perfect caress. Greg felt Viktor's nuts pull up tight to the base of the big, leaking crank in his mouth. He felt Viktor's body stiffen as he drove him to the edge. 

"Grrrh," Viktor growled deep in his throat as his entire body shivered. His back arched involuntarily. Greg was acutely aware of the iron hard spear in his mouth as it became even bigger and harder. He let go of Viktor's nuts and grabbed his hip in an effort to hold him still as the stronger man's entire body convulsed in his orgasm. 

“Ungh!” Viktor cried as he blew out in his lover’s mouth. Greg was prepared and thrilled as his partner's strong semen flooded his mouth. Greg gulped down Viktor’s thick and copious load. He slowed his pace and just gently sucked the spurting organ. His mouth filled again with the potent Bulgarian juice he so craved and Greg swallowed again.

Viktor panted as he came down from his intense orgasm. As Greg no longer needed to attempt to hold Viktor's body still, he moved his hand to massage the big stones in their loosening sac. Greg just slowly sucked the still hard cock as it now just oozed cream in his mouth. He gently moved his tongue up and down Viktor's cum tube. Viktor put a hand to the head that slowly moved beneath the sheet. Greg was well satisfied with the big and delicious load that his very hot footballer lover gave him, but he was loathe to relinquish the fantastic Bulgarian cock in his mouth. Greg let his head rest on the mattress and continued to suckle on Viktor's penis until it finally began to soften. Only then did Greg let it slip out of his mouth. 

The heady smell of sex wafted out from under the sheet along with Greg. The Brit pushed his lover over flat on his back at last and moved to kiss him. Viktor welcomed Greg's cummy tongue into his mouth as his lover laid on him. He tasted himself as Greg’s tongue moved through his mouth. Viktor caressed Greg’s tongue with his as his lover kissed him. 

"There now," Greg broke their kiss. "That's what good cum tastes like." 

"Hmm," Viktor smiled. "I like yours better," he wrapped his arms around Greg. Greg shifted his body to the side so that his weight was not on Viktor, but laid his head on the broad Bulgarian chest. Both men relaxed in the afterglow of their love making, sated for the moment and content. But soon their thoughts drifted to the other bed in their room and the fact that it was empty. 

“We should go get her,” Greg gently rubbed Viktor’s pec with his thumb. 

“I just think that,” Viktor agreed. They rolled away from each other and rose from the bed. 

“Just get robe, Slunchitze,” Viktor directed when he saw Greg pick up his jeans. 

“You don’t think we smell too awfully of sex?” Greg asked as Viktor retrieved both robes from the closet. 

“Baruska know what we do together if we smell like or no,” Viktor reasoned as he handed Greg one of the robes. 

“I suppose,” Greg slipped into his robe and bent to pull his cell from his jean pocket. “I’ll just text Baruska to let her know we’re coming now, right?” he took a moment to do so and then both men headed out into the corridor, taking care that their robes were well closed and tied securely. 

The Rosicky rooms were only six doors down from theirs. They saw the door of the king room open and be propped on the security latch as they approached. 

“Knock, knock,” Greg called out. 

"Hey, guys," Baruska greeted and held the door open for them. “You look ready for bed,” she gave a knowing smile. 

“We very much are,” Greg nodded. 

"Kids are sleeping?" Viktor asked softly. 

"They are," Baruska gestured toward the slightly ajar connecting door to the adjacent room. 

"Thanks so much for looking after her, Baruska," Greg smiled. 

"She no trouble at all," Baruska dismissed. Viktor pushed the interior door open and quietly crept into the room with two double beds. All three children were sound asleep in the bed where they had watched their movie. Damek lay in the center on his back. Eliska was by herself near the far edge and Helena was cuddled up to the older boy. She faced him and while Helena did not lay her head on him, she was curled up under his arm. 

"How cute are they!" Greg expressed softly from where he hung back with Baruska in the doorway. Viktor carefully pulled the blankets away, tossed Helena's baby to Greg, and ever so carefully lifted his daughter up out of the bed. Viktor held Helena's sleeping form to his chest and walked back through to the other room. 

"Give us a call when you all head for the pool tomorrow, right?" Greg bid. "We'll go together." 

"Okay. See you tomorrow," Baruska smiled. 

"Thank you again. Goodnight," Greg gave a wave and followed his partner and daughter out the door. He dashed ahead to open their door for them. Greg then pulled Helena's bed down and Viktor placed her in the center with her head on a pillow. Greg placed her baby beside her and tucked her in. They were most grateful for the fact that kids could sleep through damn near anything. Helena never even stirred. 

"I'll grab us some boxers so we can get into bed," Greg stated. 

"No," Viktor stated. 

"No, what?" Greg was confused. 

"No boxer. Must be naked with you," Viktor dictated. 

"I want that too, Vik. I would love that, but what about in the morning, when she wakes up?" Greg asked. 

"Have them close by," Viktor stepped up to his partner and put a hand to the side of his face as he gave Greg a soft and loving kiss on his lips. "You so beautiful, my slunchitze." 

"Look who's talking," Greg countered. 

"Where boxer?" Viktor moved to the suitcase and lifted the lid. Greg did not need to answer. They were in plain sight, folded in a corner. Greg dropped his robe and quickly got into their bed as Viktor extracted two pairs and turned to join him. Viktor placed their neatly folded boxers on the nightstand, dropped his robe, and climbed in beside the partner he craved body and soul. Greg pulled the bed clothes up around them and both men gave a sigh of contentment as they took each other in their arms. Limbs entwined, sleep soon claimed them.


	7. Bad Waltersdorf

Chapter 7: Bad Waltersdorf

Light streamed in through the patio doors when Greg awoke. He found his head on his lover's broad chest and small hands on his ass. 

"Bum, bum, bum," Helena giggled as she patted her father's bare butt. 

"Oh my God," Greg was mortified and quickly pulled the sheet, that had somehow been pulled away during the night, to cover himself. "Lene, that is completely inappropriate." 

"You touch my bum," she countered defiantly with hands on her hips. 

"That's different. I've been cleaning your cute little behind since you were a tiny baby," Greg grabbed Helena and pulled her, squealing, up onto the bed with them. 

"Oh," Viktor finally stirred as his daughter landed on top of the sheet on top of him. "Is beautiful little girl!" he wrapped his arms around his giggling daughter and snuggled her. Greg reached for his boxers and pulled them on beneath the sheet before he rose from the bed. 

"Shall I ring for a pot of coffee?" Greg asked. 

"Da, please," Viktor agreed. Greg picked up the phone on the desk near the windows. 

"Hand daddy underpants," Viktor pointed to the nightstand he could not reach. 

"Are you naked too, Tatee?" Helena asked. 

"Tatee naked too. We so tired last night, daddies just fall into bed, forget to put on boxer," Viktor shook his head. 

"Silly daddies," Helena crawled to the nightstand to retrieve her father's boxers for him. 

"Coffee will be here in just a minute," Greg replaced the corded handset in its cradle. "Now, you, my girl," he opened the big suitcase, "need to pick out what you would like to wear this morning." Greg pulled out a selection of tops and pants for her to choose from. Helena climbed off of her other father, and the bed, to pick her clothes. While her back was turned Viktor threw off the sheet and quickly slipped on his boxers. 

"And what about this swimsuit?" Greg pulled one out of the suitcase. 

"No," Helena said casually as she moved her tops and pants around on the bed. 

"Here, you didn't even look. This one is very pretty on you," Greg tossed it on the bed. "You want to look pretty for Damek, don’t you?" he teased. 

"I want to look pretty for you!" Helena stressed. 

"You always be our pretty girl," Viktor squatted down to hug her from behind. "What about pink shirt? Is very pretty for pretty girl." 

"Yes. I like pink," she agreed. 

"Who wants a glass of orange juice?" Greg asked as he bent to retrieve the jug from the little fridge. No one answered him, nor did he expect it. Viktor and Helena just knew he would pour them all a glass and so he did. 

"Here we are," Greg handed a glass to his partner and daughter. 

"Thank you. Come here," Viktor grabbed Greg's wrist and pulled him down. He gave his mate a loving kiss on his lips. 

"Me too!" Helena had a kiss for her British father as well. Greg only smiled and rubbed the top of both of their heads as he stood up. 

"Drink juice with daddy," Viktor bid. Rather than continue to squat, he sat down cross legged on the hardwood floor with his legs folded in front of him. Helena seated herself in his lap as they drank their orange juice together. 

"Whoever finish first get big hug," Viktor proposed. "Ready?"

"Ready," Helena gave a firm nod as she gripped her glass in both hands. 

"Done," Greg gulped his down while they were still discussing it, and set his now empty glass on the dresser. 

"Oh! Daddy get big hug," Viktor gulped the rest of his juice as he rose from the floor. He set his glass beside Greg's and took his partner in his arms. "Everyone jump on daddy!" Viktor threw Greg, and himself, bodily onto their bed. 

"Oof!" Greg landed with his stronger partner atop him. Helena shrieked with joy as she climbed up on the bed and threw herself down beside them with her little arms around them both. Viktor kissed Greg and Helena joined him. 

Then came the knock at the door. Neither Viktor nor Helena made any move to get off of Greg. 

"Shall we just ask him to leave it in the hall, then?" Greg asked. Viktor's only response was to roll off of Greg onto his back on the bed. Greg was able to roll Helena off of him to his other side. 

"You two are such a handful," Greg sat up and leaned to give his smiling partner a quick kiss on the lips. He then turned to his daughter and grabbed her sides to tickle her. Helena shrieked and kicked her legs up as she giggled. Greg then rose from the bed and headed for the door. 

"Now I need the loo!" Helena declared as she slid off the bed. Viktor did not move as he watched his daughter walk into the bathroom and close the door. Greg unlatched the room door and opened it. 

"Thank you. Please, come in," Greg stepped aside. He followed the uniformed room service boy to the dresser. The fresh faced young Austrian cast an admiring gaze over the mostly bare Bulgarian as he set the pot down on the dresser. Greg saw this and smirked, for he agreed that Viktor Krum was a most alluring vision in just his boxers. He pulled another five Euro note from his wallet. 

"Thank you," Greg handed the room service boy his tip. 

"Thank you, sir," the young man paused to give Greg, who he did not fail to notice was also in only underwear, a warm smile. With one last glance at Viktor, he walked to the door to show himself out. 

"Coffee smell good," Viktor gave a stretch where he lay on the bed. 

"It does," Greg grabbed two mugs and poured. "And I think the boy who brought it would rather have had a good close whiff of you, than the tip I just gave him." 

"Oh, yes? He like me?" Viktor smiled as he ran a hand down his torso and into the front of his boxers. 

"I saw the way he looked at you," Greg put cream and sugar for them both the way they each liked it. 

"Next time we order, I let him suck my dick while you fuck," Viktor teased as he leaned up on one elbow. 

"I don't think so, sir. I share my magnificent Bulgarian cock," Greg stepped to the bed and pulled the front of Viktor's boxers down far enough to reveal the soft, yet still sizable snake in Viktor's hand, "with no man." Greg bent to give a wet kiss on the serpent's cowled head. Viktor smiled as his lover gave his meat a sloppy kiss. 

"I no share mine either," Viktor grabbed Greg's soft, but still impressively thick cock through his boxers. 

"Here," Greg rose and handed Viktor his mug as they heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. "Drink your coffee," Greg bid as he picked up and took a sip of his own. "Oh, my. This is good coffee." 

"Is Julius Meinl," Viktor informed as he sipped his. "I like." 

"I do too. I forgot how good it is. Small wonder Vince asked us to bring some back for him. We'll simply have to bring some back for ourselves as well," Greg nodded to himself. Helena emerged from the bathroom after another moment and climbed back up on the bed beside Viktor. 

"Did you finish juice?" Viktor asked her. He knew perfectly well that the half a glass she left on the floor before they both jumped on Greg, still sat where it had been abandoned. Helena slid off the bed again and retrieved her juice which she promptly gulped down. She then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her nightie. 

"Does a proper lady wipe her mouth with her sleeve?" Greg asked gently. 

"I don't have a napkin," Helena reasoned. 

"We're in a hotel. You can use a small towel. You only have to ask one of us," Greg explained. Viktor downed his coffee and made a great, loud, slobbering show of wiping his face with his arm. Helena giggled and clapped. 

"Two children I have," Greg shook his head. "Come now, my girl, time to brush your teeth. Then we'll get you dressed and you can watch something on telly while daddy and I take a shower, right?" Greg smiled as their daughter only nodded and walked past him into the bathroom. "There's my girl." 

Ten minutes later Helena was dressed and sitting on her bed watching a children's channel. Viktor walked into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower. He slipped his boxers down and stepped out of them. Greg was only a moment behind, once he made sure the security latch, that Helena could not reach, was set on the room door. 

"There," Greg dropped his own underwear and kicked them aside. 

"Come here," Viktor took his lover in his arms. Greg realxed against the stronger body of his partner and held him as well. They each closed their eyes and just breathed in the other's comforting scent. 

"I don't know what was more wonderful, drinking your cum, or waking up beside you," Greg confessed. Viktor smiled and tightened his arms around Greg. 

"Play and make love with my slunchitze very wonderful, but wake up with you in my arms more meaningful to me," Viktor kissed Greg softly on his ear. "Tay obicham, my Grigor."

"I love you too, Vik, so much. It feels so good just to hold you," Greg rested his head on the stronger man's shoulder. 

"For me too," Viktor tightened his arms around his lover again. They stood that way for several minutes, before Viktor stepped back. "Come," Viktor took Greg by the hand and led him into the tub. They made quick work of washing each other's close cropped hair and bodies. Both men tried to very hard to ignore the other's inevitable erection as they knew a little one would demand their attention at any second. 

"Oh my God," Greg muttered to himself as he slipped his soapy fingers into Viktor's crack. 

"Mmm," Viktor smiled over his shoulder as he pushed his ass back against the fingers that brushed his hole. 

"I should not have done that," Greg shook his head and ran his soapy hands over the broad Bulgarian back. 

"I like. And how else I get clean?" Viktor asked. 

"I shan't be able to think about anything else all day," Greg stepped into the water to rinse. 

Viktor took hold of his lover's hard cock, "Me too." 

A little fist banged on the door. "Daddies, hurry up," came the demand muffled by the closed door, but still loud enough that they could hear it in the shower. 

"How do she know?" Viktor wondered as he continued to hold his partner's soapy erection. As a test he let go of Greg, waited a beat, and took hold of the fat cock again. 

"Daddies!" Helena opened the door this time to shout into the bathroom. 

"Almost done, Lene. We're coming right now," Greg called out. 

"Hurry up!" Helena demanded. 

"How do she know?" Viktor repeated. Greg just chuckled and shook his head. Viktor rinsed as well and soon both men were out of the shower and dry with their towels cinched about their waists. Helena wandered impatiently in and out of the bathroom while they used cotton buds and put on deodorant. She made dramatic little huffs which only made the men smile at each other. 

"Come help daddy pick out something to wear," Greg bid as he walked out to the suitcase. Helena was instantly transformed back into a happy little girl as this was one of her favorite things to do. 

"This one is pretty. I like this one," Helena pulled out a dress shirt. 

"That's for going to dinner with grandmummy, Lene," Greg put the shirt back. "What about these?" he set out two polo shirts in yellow and mint green. 

"Hmm," she put a hand to her face and tilted her head as she pretened to consider. "The yellow one." 

"Very nice. I think so too," Greg shook it out and pulled it on over his head. 

"Will you bring me just tee shirt and shorts?" Viktor stuck his head out of the bathroom. 

"Yes, my love, I will," Greg said as he dug into the duffel bags. He took Viktor's clothes and his own shorts into the bathroom and closed the door. Neither man would wear underwear this morning. Viktor pulled on his tee shirt and dropped his towel. He bent over to step into his shorts. 

"Don't move!" Greg put a hand on Viktor's back. He squatted down behind Viktor and ran his hands admiringly over the round, solid globes of his lover's exceptionally hot ass. "What a thing of beauty this is," Greg leaned in to plant kisses reverently on both cheeks and in the damp crack. 

Viktor looked back as best he could with a smile. "Is all yours," he took a wider stance and leaned over further. 

"Don't I know it," Greg licked his lips. "May I lick your arse before we go to breakfast, good sir?" he reached between Viktor's legs to cup his lover's heavy nuts. 

"Daddies!" a little fist pounded on the door again. 

"How does she do that?" Greg asked this time and reluctantly let go of Viktor's balls. Viktor chuckled as he stepped into his shorts at last and pulled them up. He turned to Greg and put a hand to his partner's face. 

"My arse belong to you. Is yours whenever you want it," Viktor gave Greg a soft kiss on his lips. 

Greg looked down at his obscenely tented shorts. "I'm going to have the horn all day," he gave a sigh. The bathroom door opened again. 

"Are you not dressed yet?" Helena demanded. 

"Yes, we dressed," Viktor led the way out of the bathroom. Greg stuck his hand in his pocket to hold himself so his erection would not be too obvious as he followed. He stuck his wallet and room key card in his other pocket with his free hand as he walked to the room door. 

"Are we going to breakfast or not? Stop messing about," Greg mock chastised. 

"Me, stop messing about!?" Helena exclaimed. Viktor tried very hard not to laugh as they all walked out into the corridor. 

Just off the lobby, and lobby lounge that was not open at this hour, was the Sun restaurant. Here is where the generous breakfast buffet awaited them. There were many Arsenal tables of four or six, sitting to their breakfast, and just as soon as the hostess led them into the dinning room to be seated, they found the Rosicky family with plates of food in their hands. 

"Viktor, come," Tomas pointed to his table. He had asked for a table that would seat eight, hoping that they would run into each other. An extra booster seat awaited Helena in the chair beside Eliska. 

"Thank you, Tomas. Morning, ladies, Damek," Viktor smiled. 

"Morning, everyone," Greg added. 

"Morning," Anezka picked up her coffee cup. "Try the coffee. Is excellent," she endorsed. 

"We had a cup in our room," Greg turned to the waitress who walked up at that moment. "But I should love another. Two coffees," he gestured to Viktor. Helena climbed up into the chair beside Eliska. 

"Don't get too comfortable, my girl. We have to go up to the buffet to get our breakfast," Greg instructed. 

"I will go with you," Tomas had helped his daughter and had yet to get his own food. Viktor took Helena by the hand and they followed Tomas, while Greg followed them. As soon as they reached the buffet, Viktor realized that his daughter was not tall enough to see anything and picked her up. 

"What does princess want for breakfast?" Viktor asked. 

"Waffles!" she pointed. 

"Waffles," Greg placed two little waffles on a plate. "How about some bacon?" 

"Oh, yes! I love bacon," Helena enthused. Viktor held his own plate in his free hand while Greg loaded all three plates. In no time they were back to eat with their friends. Greg made another quick trip by himself to get a plate of fresh fruit and melon that they shared.

Several tables of Gunners, coaches and staff broke up and waved or nodded as the made their way out. 

"Eat up, Viktor. We have to hurry," Tomas told his teammate what he already knew. 

"Where will you be, at pool?" Viktor looked to his partner. 

"That sounds like fun. What do you think, Lene?" Greg asked. "Fancy a swim?" 

"It's fun!" Damek spoke up. 

"Yes, Daddy. Let's do!" Helena was all for that idea. 

"We'll all go together," Baruska smiled. 

"We will join you when we get out," Tomas nodded. 

"See you at pool," Viktor paused to down the rest of his coffee. He kissed both his partner and daughter, and rose to walk with Tomas to their final morning meeting of training. The ladies, the children and Greg lingered over their breakfast and had a last cup of coffee. The kids entertained themselves with restaurant provided boxes of crayons and placemats on which they could color while the adults chatted in relative peace. 

Damek was the first to grow weary of this distraction. "Teta Baruska, can we go to pool now?" he knew better than to ask his mother. Baruska looked to her older sister, who looked at her watch. 

"Ano," Anezka answered. "Is almost time for seaweed wrap anyway." 

"Seaweed wrap," Helena looked to her father with big eyes. Could she possibly have heard that correctly?

"Yes, Lene. It's something adults sometimes do to make our skin as lovely as yours," Greg smiled and rubbed her arm. 

"It sounds yucky," Helena made a face. Damek and Eliska had no thoughts on the matter as they had heard their adults talk of things like this many times. 

"Is worth it in the end," Anezka smiled. She rose and plucked her handbag from the back of her chair. Everyone moved to follow her and headed for their rooms. 

"Just knock on door when you are ready," Baruska bid as they came first to the Rosicky rooms. 

"Brilliant," Greg gave a nod as he and Helena continued a little further down the hall to their door. 

"Where's my swimsuit, Daddy?" Helena had her shirt pulled off over her head before her father even had the door shut. "I want my swimsuit." 

"Hold your little horses. Give me a whole second to find it," Greg opened the suitcase and pulled out hers, his and a new one he had purchased for Viktor. "We'll leave this for daddy," he laid it on their bed. "And here you are," Greg held it up and turned to find his daughter stark naked and very ready to get into her suit. "Come then, you shy and retiring little thing." 

Helena held her father's shoulder as she started to step into her suit. "Wait! I have to go wee," she streaked into the bathroom and closed the door. This provided Greg with the perfect opportunity to slip his own suit on. He dropped his shorts and put on the print trunk that was more substantial than the speedo he would very likely have been required to wear at a public pool, but significantly smaller than anything men wore across the pond. Greg shed his polo and his daughter dashed back out of the bathroom. She quickly stepped into her one piece and Greg helped her get her arms in and the suit adjusted properly. 

"There we are. What a pretty little girl I have," Greg smiled. 

"Let's go!" Helena skipped to the door in her colorful bathing suit with the tutu like ruffle around her waist. 

"Just a minute, little miss. We need your floaties," Greg dug into the suitcase again. "The ladies might not be ready yet anyway." 

"What could possibly take them so long?" Helena demanded. 

"You'd be surprised," Greg pulled out the small inflatable plastic armbands and a beach bag which he filled with snacks and a juicebox and water from the minifridge. 

"Oh!" she was exasperated by yet more delays and grabbed the door handle. 

"Might you need a bit of sunscreen, my girl?" Greg asked as he pulled the bottle from their toiletry bag. 

"Uhh!" Helena ran back to him and presented her barely contained self. Greg sat on the bed and applied the waterproof lotion thoroughly and evenly onto his impatient daughter. 

"There," Greg snapped the bottle closed and placed it in his beach bag. Helena flew back to the door and grasped the handle again. 

"Here, we can't go running about barefoot. Put on your flippies," Greg dropped both of their flip flops on the floor and placed Viktor's by the bed. 

"Daddy!" Helena ran back to jump into her flip flops. "Come on!" she grabbed his hand and pulled him. 

"If only you could find a way to express yourself, Lene. If you don't want to go to the pool, just say so," Greg teased. 

"Oh!" Helena pulled on him harder. Greg grabbed the room key and let her drag him out into the corridor. Once in the hall, Helena let go of her father to run down to the Rosicky double room and pound on the door. Damek answered it and she skipped in right past him. The polite young man held the door and waited for Greg to join them. 

"Want me to do that?" Damek pointed to the deflated water wings in Greg's hand. "I blew up my sister's." 

"That would be lovely, Damek. What a sweet young man you are," Greg patted his bare back as he handed them over. The seven year old wore a small speedo while his sister wore a one piece suit very similar to Helena's. They both already had a coating of sunscreen as well. Baruska emerged from the connecting room in a very revealing two piece bikini. That she was a young lady who waxed was suddenly evident. Anezka wore the big white hotel provided robe. It was the costume of choice for people heading to the spa. Damek was still blowing up Helena's floaties as they all headed out. 

"Have fun. Be good for Baruska and Greg," Anezka ran a hand down the back of her son's head. 

"We will, maminku," Damek assured his mother. 

"Enjoy the spa," Greg bid. Anezka parted company with them in the center of the hotel to head for the Quellenoasis. The outdoor pools were a bit of a walk out the front of the hotel and around the Heiltherme building. They picked up pool towels from waiting carts and found lounge chairs that would give the adults a close view of the children as they played in the pool. It was a warm and sunny day in Styria, but there were few people at the pools yet. Greg made a pile of extra towels for the kids on the chaise on his other side. 

"Can we go in, Teta?" Damek asked. 

"Go ahead," Baruska gave leave. Helena and Eliska held hands and shrieked as they followed Damek. At the pool's edge they stopped. The girls ran to the nearby steps while Damek just flung himself over the edge into the water. He did not wear floaties as he had no need of them. Like a good big brother, he swam over to meet them at the steps and helped them both down into the water. 

"What a good boy, Damek is," Greg commented. "Some little girl is going to be quite lucky some day. Or boy," he added with a chuckle. 

"Never know," Baruska smiled. "Either way, he can only hope to be as good a father as you." 

"Baruska, what an absolutely corking thing to say. You really think so?" Greg asked. 

"I see how you are with Helena. Viktor is fun and, what is word, doting?" Baruska asked. 

"He is doting," Greg confirmed. 

"But you teach. She learn more from you, I think. You have way of explain things to her so she understand," Baruska elaborated. 

"What a lovely girl you are," Greg smiled. "Really, I can't tell you what a marvelous thing that is to hear. Thank you." 

"Is only truth," Baruska gave a dismissive wave. 

"What about you?" Greg asked. "Your neice and nephew adore you. Think you might want some of your own someday?" 

"I am sure someday. Right now I have them. I do wish I could see them, and my sister, and Tomas more often," Baruska confessed. 

"It's good you could come down," Greg expressed. 

"Good for my sister. Is good for me too," Baruska conceded. 

"Guten morgen," A waiter in white uniform polo shirt and shorts approached them. 

"Good morning," Greg greeted. "Do you speak English?"

"Ja, Englisch. Good morning. May I bring some refreshment for you und deine frau?" he asked. 

"Deine frau?" Greg asked even as Baruska giggled. She got it. 

"Sorry, your wife," the waiter smiled and gestured. 

"Oh, my wife!" Greg looked to Baruska who tilted her head and made playful eyes at him. "Perhaps an iced tea with lemon. Something for you, Darling?" Greg asked. 

"The same," she nodded agreeably. 

"Two iced teas for mein frau and me," Greg smiled. 

"Right away, mein herr," the waiter inclined his head and headed off to fetch their drinks from the bar. Greg looked to Baruska who giggled away. 

"He must think I'm some kind of cradle snatcher. Plucked you up when you were twelve, I did. No need of an education, I told yer dad. All she needs know is how to do the wash, and the cooking and have me nippers," Greg joked away as she laughed at him. "Though, attired as you are," he looked her over, "I can see how he might have thought you’re older." 

"This is most fun. You will be my husband today!" Baruska laughed and clapped. 

"Close as I'm ever going to get to having a wife!" Greg chuckled. "And speaking of, might there be a cute boy at home with your name on him?"

"Karel," Baruska answered. "He is big and strong and very handsome. He older than me. He just turn nineteen." 

"Come, tell your husband all about him," Greg bid. 

"Mein herr," the waiter returned then and set their two iced teas in large plastic cups down on the small table between their lounges. "Mein frau." 

"Here we are," Greg handed the man his room key. The waiter inclined his head and walked away to prepare the room charge. 

"Where were we? Ah yes, a big, strong, handsome Czech boy?" Greg smiled and took a gulp of his tea. 

"Karel work in crystal factory. Father don't like him very much, but mother do. He bring her pretty things all the time," Baruska informed. 

"Did you do something nice for his birthday?" Greg asked. 

"I give him blow job," Baruska said matter of factly. 

"You did not! You naughty girl. No wonder your father doesn't like him," Greg surmised. 

"My father not know. He think we be good," Baruska stated. 

"Go on, then. Tell us all about it," Greg urged. 

"I only do that on special occasion. Make him come that way, I mean," Baruska clarified. "I like to do that, but I don't tell him. I have to save something for special occasion. Something other than be inside me with no condom. He can fuck me in mouth or ass with no condom, but I only let him fuck me in proper place with condom." 

Greg could not help the crease that furrowed his brow. "Baruska...," Greg began and pondered how to proceed. Here beside him was a beautiful girl who was becoming a young woman. The father in him was acutely aware that a conversation exactly like this, perhaps every bit as frank, was inevitable in his future when his own daughter transitioned into womanhood. 

"Herr Goyle," the waiter returned with Greg's check. 

"Thank you, Jurgen," Greg read his name tag and handed the check back. 

"I am always around pool, if you need anything else, Herr Goyle, Frau Goyle," Jurgen smiled. 

"Danke," Greg used one of the three German words he knew. 

"Bitte," Jurgen answered and walked away. 

"Karel want very much to be inside me without condom," Baruska picked up where she left off, "but father kill us both if we make baby." 

"That’s very wise of you, but I do feel compelled to point out, that condoms do more than prevent pregnancy," Greg dispensed his fatherly advice. "Does your sister know how active you are?" 

"We talk about boys. Anezka do the same thing with Tomas before they get married," Baruska informed. 

"No doubt she has said the same," Greg tried to be subtle. 

"She do. She say not let him near me at all without condom, but I not like that. I like have him in my mouth. Condom would be awful,” Baruska shook her head. 

Greg was suddenly faced with a complete and terrible quandary. He knew perfectly well how unpleasant it was to go down on a dressed cock. It defeated the whole purpose really, but the father in him, with his own precious little girl in mind who would have to make this same decision one day, wanted to scream that she shouldn’t let an unwrapped dick in the same room with her, much less anyplace on or in her. 

“Baruska,” Greg began carefully again, “I do understand what you are saying. I wouldn’t want Viktor in my mouth with a condom either, but Vik and I have been together and exclusive,” he stressed the point, “for many years. We don’t use a condom for anything now of course, but there was a time when we did. Do you take my meaning?” Greg asked. He wouldn’t trust a nineteen year old man to not stick it in anyone who would just hold still for a moment, but he didn’t want to say that. “It’s something a couple works up to. You see?” 

“You sound like a father,” Baruska pointed out. 

“I thought this particular conversation was a few years off yet. How am I doing?” Greg asked with a smile. 

“You good father. I already tell you,” Baruska waved a hand. 

“Right. Then listen to the good father, please,” Greg requested. Baruska pulled her cell out of her bag, scrolled through her photos and handed the phone to Greg. She watched as Greg's eyebrows shot up. In this picture a young man who looked all of nineteen sat on a boulder at the shore of a body of water. He wore sneakers and a grin, and was in a partial state of arousal. 

"I bloody well hope this is Karel," Greg scrutinized the photo very carefully. 

"That Karel," Baruska giggled. 

"My, my," Greg handed the phone back to her. The young man was an absolute vision. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly be expected to keep their hands, or lips, off of him, but he wasn’t about to say that to her either. 

Baruska tucked her phone away, stretched out and closed her eyes. "Sun feel good," she sighed. 

"It does," Greg agreed, secretly glad to be done with that conversation, though guilt niggled at him a bit. There was no way he would let his own daughter off that easy. Not before she swore before the Queen herself that she would still be an untouched virgin on her wedding night. Greg shook his head in an effort to clear these thoughts from his mind. "I wish we got more sun in London,” he added, hoping to perpetuate their new topic lest they return to the former. “Oh, speaking of," Greg sat up and reached into his bag. "I'd best get on a bit of sunscreen myself," he produced a bottle of lower SPF than he had used on Helena. He brought a coconut oil for adult use and proceeded to apply it. 

"You are very fair," Baruska observed. She would have been herself, but it was clear that she had spent a good amount of time in the sun this summer. "That smell good," she added. 

"Would you like some?" Greg offered. 

"I not need it yet," Baruska laid back again. 

The adults just watched the little ones swim and splash and play for a while. Damek walked up the steps out of the pool and Helena squealed in pursuit. Damek slowly increased his speed to stay just out of her reach until they were both running. 

"Don't let's run around the pool, please," Greg raised his fatherly voice. "That goes for all of you," he pointed. Damek slowed down and allowed Helena to catch him. She tried to tickle him until he tickled her back. 

"See how good father you are?" Baruska asked. "You don't yell. You just remind them to be responsible in firm voice. Little ones forget is all." 

"I should like to avoid little heads cracked open is all," Greg added. Damek took Helena's hand and together they jumped over the side into the water. 

A few minutes later Damek was out of the pool again and, mindful of not running, walked quickly over to their chairs. Baruska moved her legs to the side to make room for him and he sat down on her lounge chair. Helena and Eliska were close behind. 

"I'm very thirsty," Damek announced. 

"Oh, of course you are. Poor boy," Greg waved to Jurgen. Damek snatched up his aunt's iced tea and took a hard pull through the straw. 

"Yuk," Damek made a face. Baruska only giggled at him. 

"Herr Goyle?" Jurgen asked as he approached.

"Do you have sweetened tea?" Greg asked. 

"Ja, also with lemon," Jurgen confirmed. 

"Three of those, please," Greg handed over his room key again. A look of puzzlement flashed quickly across the waiter's face. 

"Right away, mein herr," Jurgen recovered quickly and walked away. 

"Did you see that?" Greg asked with amusement. 

"He wonder how I could have child so big," Baruska rubbed Damek's shoulder. 

"I did snatch you up when you were twelve, barefoot and pregnant," Greg teased. 

"What?" Damek did not get it. 

"The waiter thinks your aunt is my wife and that you are all our children," Greg explained. 

"Ha!" Damek found that very amusing. 

Greg made room for both girls on his chaise and wrapped a towel around them both when a sudden breeze gave their little wet bodies a shiver. Jurgen returned presently with three sweet teas that were quickly sucked down. 

"I need the loo," Helena announced promptly after finishing her tea. 

"Me too!" Eliska agreed. 

"Come, girls," Baruska got up. 

"Perhaps we'll all go," Greg rose. Damek said nothing but walked beside him, behind the girls, all the way to the bathrooms. Greg stepped up to a urinal and pulled down the front of his bathing suit to take himself out to piss. Damek took the urinal next to him and did the same thing. 

"Are you having a good time, Damek?" Greg asked the boy as they stood side by side with their dicks in hand. 

"Yes, very much. I am glad you brought Helena," Damek stated. "It's like I have two little sisters when she's around." 

"I think she rather fancies having you for a big brother now and then as well," Greg added. Adult man and young man finished, washed their hands, and headed back to their chairs. Damek stretched out on Baruska's chair while they waited for the girls to return. They came along presently. Baruska took her lounge as Damek got up. He led the two younger kids back to the pool. 

"Thank you for that," Greg smiled. 

"Is nothing. We all had to go," Baruska gave a dismissive wave. 

"Well, thank you anyway. I'm not so much worried here. She could probably go by herself, but I was not about to let her out of my sight in the airport. Can I tell you what fun it was to take her into the men's room there? Men of all ages standing at the urinals, like Damek and I just were. Ghastly," Greg relayed. Baruska only gave a giggle. 

"Ah, here they are," Greg noticed them first. Not more than five minutes after they were back in their chairs, Greg spotted Viktor and Tomas. They picked up towels from the cart and headed for their families. 

"Oh, my," Greg could not help but admire how Viktor's snug, low rise, little square cut bathing suit looked on him. Tomas had on even less in a little bikini. The pouches of both appeared equally packed. 

"Viktor as handsome as my Karel," Baruska commented quietly so that only Greg could hear as the men approached. 

"You have fun?" Viktor asked with a smile as he sat down on Greg's chair. Tomas likewise, sat on the end of his sister-in-law's chair. 

"You look even better in that suit than I imagined," Greg confessed. 

"My slunchitze so sweet," Viktor leaned over to give his partner a gentle kiss on his lips. "When I see you leave it out I know you want me to wear it." 

"Yes, well, I have excellent taste," Greg gave a sigh. 

"If you like big, loud, Bulgarian," Tomas teased. 

"I throw you in pool," Viktor threatened. 

"How was your last meeting, then?" Greg asked. "All ready for the new season?"

"Is no good," Viktor shook his head. 

"Is fine," Tomas countered. "Team is in excellent shape."

"I mean for Armand," Viktor clarified. 

"Is good opportunity for him," Tomas dismissed. 

"What about Armand?" Greg asked. He knew his partner and the Frenchman were close. 

"He on loan to Juventis for this season," Viktor informed. 

"Oh," Greg got it at once. As the partner of a Gunner, he was acutely aware of the potential for any player to be sent on loan or sold outright. The players were just chessmen on a board to people like Ivan Gazidis. "Juventis. That's in Turin. Poor Fiona. Does she know yet?"

"Armand scared to tell her. He not know if he should call her or wait until he get home," Viktor stated. 

"He should wait," Greg and Baruska spoke in unison. Greg knew he wouldn't want news like that on the phone and Baruska did too. "Too right," Greg followed up with a nod to Baruska. 

"It is good opportunity for him," Viktor took Greg's hand, "but he love her." 

"Is not forever. He will be back," Tomas gave a shrug. 

"Next year!" Greg exclaimed. He could not even begin to imagine being without Viktor from late August to damn near June. He squeezed Viktor's hand and his lover looked into his eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. 

"Unless, my God," Greg thought about it. "There's no way this will be reported before he has a chance to tell her, is there? That would be a terrible way for her to find out." 

"Is not supposed to be announced until team get back," Viktor informed. 

"Okay, good," Greg nodded. 

"Some refreshment, mein herren?" Jurgen asked as he appeared with his tray. 

"Gosser," Tomas answered without hesitation. 

"I not like beer in can, but I have one too," Viktor agreed. Greg handed over his room key again. 

"Right away, mein herren," Jurgen nodded and walked away. 

"It's not even lunch time," Greg observed. 

"We not get to drink hardly this whole time. Now we on vacation, we make up for it," Viktor stated. 

"Right," Greg understood. He had the time to think about absent spouses while Jurgen interrupted them, "Too bad Anezka couldn't spend the morning at the pool with us." 

"No," Tomas shook his head. "Anezka have all the spa time she want. The more happy my wife during day, the more happy she make me at night." 

Baruska let out a peal of laughter. "Tomas make cute little grunt when he come!" she informed. Both Viktor and Greg's eyebrows rose. 

"I do not!" Tomas whirled around on her. "How you know that?!" 

"I hear it three different nights now," Baruska giggled. 

"Kristus!" Tomas exclaimed. "Do not tell your sister that." 

"Please," she scoffed. "I know that long before I hear it!" 

"Women," Tomas shook his head. "I hope we did not wake up kids." 

"No, they sleep. They must be used to it," Baruska giggled further. "It where they came from!" 

"You very funny girl," Tomas nodded. "Still, I glad you here," he patted her leg. "Is only way I get private time with my wife. Very hard at home. Kids always in our room." 

"We can certainly relate to that," Greg squeezed Viktor's hand again. "Were it not for Baruska’s services last night, I would never have gotten a few minutes with Vik. Helena was all over him," he explained. Viktor gave his lover a warm smile. 

"I miss you too," Viktor leaned over to give Greg a loving kiss on his lips again. 

“That all it take you, Viktor? Few minutes?” Tomas shook his head. “Like school boy.” 

“After month you like school boy too. You take less than minute probably,” Viktor countered. 

"Do you two tell secrets on each other like my wife do?" Tomas gave his sister-in-law an evil glance. 

"No," Viktor stated firmly. He noticed immediately that Greg did not voice his agreement. 

"Rick not only knows how much you come, but every cute face and noise you make while you do it," Greg teased. He was sure he hadn't actually told Rick all of that, or, probably not, maybe. 

"He tell you about Ashok and H?" Viktor asked. 

"He's still learning about Ashok and I know more about H than anyone should ever care to," Greg replied. 

"Mein herren," Jurgen handed Viktor and Tomas a beer can in a coozie with the Quellenhotel logo. 

"Danke," Viktor said as he received his. His German in his Bulgarian accent was one of the cutest things Greg had ever heard. 

"Herr Goyle," Jurgen handed Greg the check. 

"Thank you," Greg smiled as he signed the check.

"Anything else for you or Frau Goyle?" Jurgen asked. 

"We're fine. Thank you," Greg handed the check back to the friendly waiter who smiled and withdrew. He then found Viktor and Tomas staring at him. 

"Is something you would like to tell me?" Viktor asked with an amused smile. 

"Yes," Greg chuckled. "I would like for you to meet my lovely young wife Baruska, who started bearing my young when she was only ten, evidently," he gestured. Viktor laughed deep in his chest. Tomas looked to his sister-in-law. 

"He think Greg your husband and my kids yours?" Tomas asked. 

"Greg might seem like good husband, but he keep me in kitchen, barefoot and pregnant since I just girl," Baruska played. 

All of the adults should have been paying more attention to the children in the pool than they were. They might not have been taken quite as by surprise as they were. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" Helena flew into Viktor and flug her arms around him, streaming wet. Eliska followed her friend's example and did the same to her father. Both men endured their cold, wet child because they loved them and loved the exuberant affection. Baruska had not quite the same reaction when Damek did the same to her. He half laid on his aunt and flopped his wet mop of hair down on her chest. 

"Ah! Get off me, cold, wet monster!" Baruska shrieked. Damek found this very funny and laughed his ass off.

"Come here, cold, wet monster boy," Tomas put his arm around his son and pulled him close to kiss him on his temple. 

"Come in the pool and play with us, Tatee!" Helena announced her grand idea. The clever little girl knew her Bulgarian father would refuse her nothing when she played the ace of calling him daddy in his native language. 

"You little minx. I see right through you," Greg pointed at his daughter. 

"Okay. Tatee come in pool," Viktor knew it too and did not care. He set her on her feet and rose to follow her. 

"You too, Tatinek!" Eliska cried and pulled on him. 

"Okay," Tomas rose as well. Damek paused to rub his wet mop of hair on Baruska's abdomen and danced away laughing as she convulsed. She swore in Czech after him, even as he leaped over the edge into the pool, still laughing. 

"Shall we go sit on the edge, Darling?" Greg asked. 

"You go ahead. I not go near them," Baruska leaned back and closed her eyes. Greg rose and took his tea, along with the other men's beers, to the edge of the pool with him. He sat down on the edge with his legs in the water and watched his family and friends swim and splash with each other. Both men, Bulgarian and Czech, were clearly good fathers. It filled Greg with love to see the joy and love between them as they all played together. He loved his partner and their child more than anything. It was times like this that what really mattered in life was only too obvious. It thrilled him even more to think that tomorrow they would fly to Varna to see Viktor's family. It was not an easy thing in Bulgaria to embrace with open, loving arms a homosexual union, but Viktor's whole family had done just that, from the first time they met him. They were superstitious and orthodox, but family and love came first for them. Greg noticed Viktor stop and whisper something to Helena, who covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. He saw Viktor come toward him in the chest deep water. 

"Don't you splash me," Greg warned. 

"I not splash you. Want beer," Viktor came to the side and picked up his can. He ran a hand lovingly up and down Greg's calf under the water as he stood between his lover's legs and guzzled his Gosser. "Thank you for bringing over," Viktor smiled and tried to suppress his burp. Tomas moved through the water to join them. 

"Thank you. You good husband. I no care what your wife say," Tomas picked up his can and downed half of it. 

"She just doesn't understand me, my little wifey," Greg gave a mock sad face. "Though we have so much in common," he added with a chuckle. Greg turned back to look at her and Baruska only stuck out her tongue at him. This made Greg laugh, until Viktor grabbed him around the waist with his strong arms. 

"Oh!" was all the time Greg had to get anything out. He grasped Viktor's arms as the muscular Bulgarian threw him up and over his shoulder into the water. Greg went ass over elbow, but it took him only a moment to find his feet. He came up and wiped water out of his eyes, only to find his partner standing not three feet away with a big grin on his lightly goateed face. Helena squealed with laughter nearby. Greg just gaped at Viktor for a quick moment. 

"I not splash you," Viktor pointed out, still with his boyish grin. 

"You didn't splash me with the pool, you splashed the pool with me!" Greg wiped his face again. "You big, mean sod."

"I sorry, my Grigor," Viktor moved to take Greg in his arms. 

"Daddy, that was so funny!" Helena floated by them in her water wings. 

"It was pretty funny," Viktor agreed as he held his lover. 

"This is funny too!" Greg pulled down the back of Viktor's bathing suit to reveal his firm, round bubble butt. As Viktor moved his hands to the back of his suit, Greg was released and the Brit swam away as fast as he could. 

"Oh, you want to play with me?" Viktor put his suit right and gave pursuit. Helena laughed as she watched one father chase the other. Damek stood beside his father and they both watched as Viktor caught up with Greg. The Brit almost got a shout out before they both went under. Greg was at a decided disadvantage as he wrestled underwater with his much stronger partner. They were deeper in the pool and it was a long moment before they broke the surface. They stood six feet apart in shoulder deep water. Both men wiped the water out of their eyes as they filled their lungs with air. 

"Viktor," Greg only used his lover's full name when he was serious. A mischievous smile played at one corner of the Bulgarian's mouth. Viktor slowly raised his right hand out of the water. In it he held Greg's bathing suit. Damek burst into laughter. 

"Yes, please show everyone that you have stripped me naked," Greg was less than amused. Viktor at once brought Greg's swimsuit back beneath the water. 

"I like my slunchitze naked," Viktor gave a leer. "Come here." 

"If you were not so adorable, I should be quite cross," Greg swam over to Viktor. 

"I help you put back on," Viktor let go of the small garment to take hold of Greg's cock and balls with one hand and rub his butt with the other. 

"Is this you helping me get dressed? People can see us," Greg grabbed his swimsuit and glanced around self consciously. 

Viktor leaned close to whisper in Greg's ear, "I tell little ones to turn head when I sit you back on side of pool and suck you." 

"You're just nearly bold enough to do that," Greg laughed. "Hold me up while I slip my suit back on," he turned his back to Viktor. The stronger man held him easily by his sides while Greg lifted his legs and pulled his bathing suit back on. 

"We should go to one of those male only gay guesthouses sometime if you really want to do that," Greg then turned around and put his arms around his lover. 

"I like this idea," Viktor nodded while he ran his hands up and down Greg's ribs. Greg smiled and gave Viktor a quick kiss on his lips. 

"Boys," Baruska called to them, "time to meet Anezka." 

"Come, kids," Tomas herded. "And big kids," he added to Viktor and Greg with an approving smile. It took only a few minutes to dry off and gather their things. Helena and Eliska wrapped themselves in fresh towels and the group set off. Greg pulled his cell from his beach bag to check for missed messages or calls. 

"You are expecting call?" Viktor asked. 

"Rick will be speaking to H any moment now. I'm quite sure he'll need to talk after that," Greg stated. 

"Ashok comfort him," Viktor gave an assured nod. 

Anezka was already seated in her spa robe, at the outdoor café overlooking another of the many pools. The children took great joy in telling her about their adventures in the water and especially how Viktor threw Greg in right over his shoulder. As lunch began to wrap up, Viktor and Tomas excused themselves again. The buses would be loading to return the team to their chartered jet that would take them back to the UK. Both men wanted to send home everything team related that they would not need on their vacations. 

Viktor would send home his larger duffel bag and emptied its contents onto the bed to sort through it. Not all of this was team gear and he set aside for the big suitcase clothes he might want in Varna. Viktor picked up his jockstraps and stuffed those in the duffel. He would not need those. Of course, there was the one. Viktor pulled this one back out. It was quite worn, the pouch threadbare to the point of looking like mesh. Greg told him to throw the old rag away after he had done the laundry. Then Viktor put it on. He smiled to himself at the memory of unbridled lust that had transformed Greg's features. This one he put in the suitcase. Viktor, still in his bathing suit, put on a ribbed tank top, slung the duffel over his shoulder and headed for the lobby. 

As expected, the buses were waiting and the team had gathered. Only a few were heading from here on vacation, but everyone gathered to see off those who were departing. Kieran stood with his chest against Lukasz's side under the bigger man's arm. Both men wore shorts and while Lukasz wore a tank top like Viktor, Kieran wore a muscle shirt entirely without sides. Viktor smiled when he saw how Kieran was dressed. The curve of the younger man's well developed pecs was clearly visible through the open sides of his shirt. Viktor knew how much that turned the Pole on. He added his duffel bag to the pile that was being loaded into the cargo spaces beneath the first bus and joined his friends. 

"When you guys fly out?" Viktor asked. 

"We fly to Berlin tomorrow," Lukasz answered. 

"Why you go to Germany?" Viktor did not get it. 

"Is closest big airport to my hometown," Lukasz explained. 

"Kostrzyn Nad Odra," Kieran took great care to pronounce it properly. 

"Perfect, Slodki," Lukasz kissed his partner on the forehead. 

"Bardzo mi przyjemnie," Kieran continued to utter what he had learned in his Polish language crash course. 

"What you say?" Viktor did not expect to hear Polish from the young Brit. 

"Nice to meet you, basically. I think," Kieran answered. 

"It is very pleasant for me to meet you," Lukasz clarified. "And what you say if someone say that to you first?"

"Nawzajem," Kieran spoke with confidence. 

"Yes, perfect," Lukasz kissed the shorter man's forehead again. 

"We should all have dinner tonight," Viktor shared his great idea. 

"You like, Slodki?" Lukasz asked. 

"That would be nice," Kieran was all for that idea. "I would like that a lot," he looked up at his lover. "I won't even sit beside you." 

"Why not?" Viktor asked. He could hardly imagine them parted. 

"I cannot hold my Kieran like this in my hometown," Lukasz spoke with sad resignation. 

"That's gonna be the hardest part for me," Kieran looked up at Lukasz with big eyes. "To be near you but not be able to touch you is gonna be so hard," he leaned his head on Lukasz's shoulder and it melted the bigger man's heart. The Pole closed his eyes and held Kieran to him even tighter. 

"I not like that either," Lukasz confessed. "Maybe we not go. Make excuse." 

"No. Please, Wu? I want to see where you come from. I want to meet your family. I'll try to be strong," Kieran urged. 

"If you need hug sometime, Maciej and Jarek look out for us," Lukasz assured. 

"Your brothers sound like good guys. I can't wait to meet them," Kieran smiled. 

"They are," Lukasz kissed his lover on the forehead again. 

"Hey, guys," Tomas lugged his own big duffel bag and dropped it on the dwindling pile. He had put on a tee shirt and white shorts, through which his red bikini was clearly visible. 

"There you are, Tomas," Viktor clapped his friend on the back. Theo walked slowly past them pointing a finger at Kieran and holding eye contact with his fellow Brit as he did so. 

"Theo's gonna get me," Kieran giggled. 

"Oh, yes. Yes I am," Theo promised. 

"You try," Lukasz warned. "Come through me," he added. 

"Okay. I see how it is," Theo nodded. "And you," he pointed at Jack who walked up to them. 

"I love you guys," Jack gave the joined Kieran and Lukasz a quick hug. 

"Be careful, Jack," Kieran bid. 

"I will," Jack laughed. He lost his smile when he turned around to find Theo and Aaron standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms folded across their chests. "Uh oh. I think I'm buggered." 

"I hope you enjoy the cavity search you'll get after I tell airport security that you have a bomb concealed on your person," Aaron threatened. Viktor, Tomas and Lukasz all burst out laughing. 

"What is funny?" Andrey asked as he joined them. 

"Aaron going to get himself arrested after he lie about bomb on plane," Viktor explained. "That good press for team." 

"Viktor," Andrey put a hand on the Bulgarian's shoulder, "was so quiet and peaceful in room without you there snore at me." 

"Was nice for me too without big foul Russian fart fill up whole room," Viktor jibbed back with a sweep of his arm. 

"Now I have to tell Greg how much you drool over fine Russian backside," Andrey patted his butt. 

"You know he see picture. He drool more than me," Viktor dismissed. "We have dinner tonight. All of us," he informed. Andrey and Tomas nodded their agreement. Viktor caught sight of Armand at that moment and walked up to the tall Frenchman and took him in his arms. 

"Thank you, mon ami," Armand patted Viktor on the back. "Fiona knows I have news, but not what it is. She could hear it in my voice. I will tell her as soon as I get home." 

"I very sorry for this, Armand. Call if you need," Viktor squeezed the taller man's arms and let him go. 

"I will, Viktor. Merci," Armand patted a muscular shoulder. 

Viktor, Lukasz, Kieran, Tomas and Andrey bid the rest of the team, coaches and staff a fond farewell and waited until the buses pulled out. Andrey would fly to Saint Petersburg and the Rosicky family would take the train home to the Czech Republic with Baruska. 

"What time dinner?" Lukasz asked. 

"We have kids, so not too late. Six," Tomas answered. 

"Six, okay," Andrey nodded. 

"I have to go get ready for balloon ride now. See you at dinner," Viktor gave his friends a wave and set off. 

In their room, Viktor found Greg sitting on the bed, watching his BBC One News on the hotel satellite. Helena and both Rosicky children played in clear view, in the grass outside their room. Baruska sat out on their patio watching them. Greg still wore only his bathing suit. 

"There you are. Fancy another beer?" Greg asked. 

"Oh, want something to drink," Viktor knelt on the floor between Greg's legs, "but not beer." The Gunner looked up at his partner as he ran his hands up the lightly hairy thighs. 

"What might I get you then, sexy footballer?" Greg smiled. 

"I think I suck you off right now," Viktor ran his fingers into the top of Greg's suit. 

"As smashing as that sounds, Baruska can see us," Greg took hold of the stronger man's wrists. 

"That okay. I show her how to suck a man good," Viktor pulled down the front of Greg's suit with one hand, until his dark pubes were exposed, and grasped the growing bone through the thin fabric with the other. 

"I rather think she knows," Greg pointed out. 

"She do? How you know that?" Viktor asked. 

"She blew me at the pool before you got there," Greg could not resist. In any event, it had been an absurd question. 

"She did? Who I kill first, you or her?" Viktor made a face like he was actually pondering the question. "I give you kiss while I think about it," he pulled down the front of Greg's swimsuit even further and leaned forward to kiss his lover's trimmed pubes. 

"Vik," Greg protested. 

"Give me towel," Viktor kissed the thickened base of his partner's cock. Greg reached behind him to grab one of the towels from the pool. He held up one side while Viktor took the other. Together they made a tiny screen behind which there could be no doubt what was going on, but through which no one could actually see. Viktor pulled down the suit further, stretching it to it's limit, to free Greg's fully aroused cock. 

"Mmm," Viktor gave a lick through the serpent's gaping eye. "He wants me give him kiss." 

"Alright, give me a kiss, but then stop! Everyone ca-han," Greg's words caught in his throat as Viktor stretched his lips around him and Greg's every solid inch sank into his lover's mouth. "See," Greg finally squeaked out the remainder of his sentence. Viktor pressed his face into Greg's pubes, the mixed scent of his man and the pool in his nose, while he worked his tongue on his lover's sensitive cum tube.

"Hoh, my God," Greg moaned. Ever so slowly, Viktor pulled his mouth up Greg's bone, his tongue constantly in motion in exactly the right place. When Viktor finally pulled off, he did at last give the now throbbing snake a kiss on the top of it's head. 

"That was some kiss," Greg enthused. 

"I like to kiss my Grigor fat cock," Viktor planted a wet kiss on Greg's frenulum this time. 

And then the patio door slid open. Greg quickly covered his lap with the towel while, beneath it, Viktor placed his erection back in his bathing suit. 

"Oh!" Baruska caught sight of Viktor kneeling on the floor between Greg's legs with his hands working under the towel over Greg's lap. "You men need few minutes? I just get juice boxes. Kids are thirsty." 

"No, no. Please," Greg gestured toward the small fridge. He was clearly mortified. Baruska could not keep the grin from her face as she retrieved the children's beverages. 

"I close curtain behind me to give you some privacy," Baruska offered as she headed back to the open patio door. 

"Oh, no. That's quite alright. Could you send Helena in, please? We actually need to get going now," Greg said as he sat with the towel over his slowly subsiding erection. 

"Okay," Baruska smiled and stepped outside. 

"Vik! She almost caught us with my stalk in your mouth!" Greg exclaimed in a horse whisper. Viktor only chuckled. Helena came skipping in as instructed. She took no notice of one father kneeling between the legs of the other. All of them changed into appropriate clothes and were at the hotel front entrance in time for the crew chief of their balloon to pick them up in his minivan. The pleasant man briefed them on what to expect as he drove them to the launch site. The hundred foot tall multi colored balloon was visible a long way off. In a field on the sloping side of the valley it waited. The crew chief drove them quite close and parked beside the chase crew's vehicle. Helena was all eyes and held both her fathers' hands as they walked up to the big basket. They were introduced to their pilot, who was the crew chief's son and bore an obvious resemblance. Viktor climbed in first. Greg handed him Helena and Viktor helped his partner in as well. 

Their lines were cast off and with the dragon like roar of the burners, the balloon soon had sufficient hot air to lift them gently from the ground. The first thing they noticed was that their asent was so gentle, there was no sensation of moving or rising. It was most odd, coupled with the sight of the ground falling away beneath them. The pilot held on the burners for another few minutes and they continued to rise. Even after he stopped they rose still. Soon the panoramic view of Bad Waltersdorf and the entire valley lay below them. Orchards and vineyards were visible in the distance in neighboring valleys. The pilot pointed it out, but it was easy for them to spot their hotel. It was the only one with it's own spring fed swimming lake and so many pools. The feeling of peace and tranquility was all the more heightened by the apparent lack of wind. That was not the case, of course, as they were moving with it in their lighter than air airship. Helena stood on top of Viktor's feet and was then just tall enough to peer over the edge. He took great care to make sure she was snug between his body and the wall of the basket. 

Finally they passed over the hills and into another valley. Their pilot pulled the release valve to allow hot air to escape from the balloon and they began a gentle descent. Their chase crew met them on the ground in a farmer's field. They followed and parked beside them, the young men jumping out to catch and secure the lines. The pilot's father had two glasses of champagne waiting and a glass of apple juice. For all Helena knew, she was drinking the same thing as they toasted to their magnificent ride while afternoon gave way to evening. The pilot set about the long process of deflating the balloon as the chase crew made ready to pack everything up. The crew chief left them to it and drove the passengers back to their hotel. In all they were gone not quite three hours. Greg took his daughter's hand as they walked into the hotel. 

"Did you have a good time, Lene?" Greg asked. 

"Daddy, that was so much fun!" Helena enthused. 

"It was, wasn’t it? We have Tatee to thank," Greg stated. 

"Thank you, Tatee!" Helena let go of Greg's hand and flung her arms around Viktor's waist. 

"I knew my princess would like," Viktor hugged his daughter back. "We go to dinner now. You hungry?" 

"Starving!" Helena declared. 

"What dreadful parents we are who never feed our starving child," Greg teased. 

"I'm going to tell everyone that you never feed me," Helena joined in with a giggle. 

"You do that," Greg urged in an amused voice. 

They were exactly on time and found the Rosicky family had only just sat down themselves. Andrey, Lukasz and Kieran came along presently and joined them at the big table for twelve. Kieran, as he promised, made a point of not sitting beside his bigger, stronger half. Lukasz sat beside Viktor. The Bulgarian felt for the other couple. He wasn't sure who looked more miserable by this unfortunate necessity, Lukasz or Kieran. The young Brit was lost without his partner, it was obvious, and clearly the Pole was equally distressed for being able to see this. It was a small taste of what awaited them in Poland and it clenched Lukasz's heart. Viktor put a hand on Lukasz's shoulder in understanding. Neither man spoke as Lukasz just patted Viktor's hand. Helena sat beside Eliska and both young ladies nattered amongst themselves. Damek sat on the other side of his sister and helped to entertain them. Lukasz put it from his mind and joined in the conversations with the other adults. He kept an eye on Kieran and was concerned when his lover left the table half way through the meal. 

Kieran walked out of the Spring restaurant as if he were heading for the restrooms, but walked right past them. He wanted and needed to be alone. There was no one in the corridor that led to the rooms of the North wing and he stopped there. It upset Kieran that he was near tears. He wasn't even sure why this bothered him so much. He was not abandoned. All those people were his friends and teammates, people who cared about him and loved him. His partner was at the same table. Why did it make such a difference that he was a few seats down across the table and not right next to him? Why was that such a great gulf? All his life he had been socially inept, found it difficult to make friends. Only football brought him any joy. It was the one thing he was good at. Everything changed the day Lukasz found him. And nothing changed at all. Lukasz guided their social interaction. The strong, confident Pole took care of him. It was easy once Kieran got to know people. He knew his teammates and through them their families. But once they all went their separate ways, he would be completely lost without Lukasz, without his big, strong, loving man to look after him. Kieran wanted to go to Poland. He wanted to see the town where the man he loved grew up. He wanted to meet his family. Lukasz assured him that they would be sleeping together. His lover would hold him at night the same as he always did. Why did it fill him with such fear that he should not and could not touch Lukasz when he wanted, when he needed, while they were there? Kieran forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. It made him so angry that that he was so weak. 

Kieran almost gave a start when Lukasz appeared before him. Worry was clear on the bigger man's face. Neither man spoke. They stood for a long moment only a few feet apart. Then both men moved at once. Lukasz took his lover in his arms and Kieran buried his face in the strong chest that gave him such comfort. 

"I'm trying to be strong," Kieran confessed. He needed Lukasz. And for his part Lukasz needed to be needed. They were very much each other's missing half. 

"I sorry, my Kieran," Lukasz held the smaller body to him. "I make Viktor switch with you." 

"No," Kieran gave a sigh. "No, I'll be okay. I can do it. Just hold me for a minute, Wu," Kieran requested. 

"I will," Lukasz tightened his arms around his lover. "Always I will." 

After another long moment Kieran lifted his head from his partner's chest, "Okay. I can go back in now. Thank you."

"Never thank me for hold you," Lukasz put a hand to his lover's face and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. He then took Kieran by the hand and led him back to the restaurant. Kieran took another deep breath and sat back down beside Andrey. For what reason he could not quite put his finger on, he felt better and even mustered the courage to ask Andrey about Saint Petersburg. 

Dinner did not go too late as the kids grew fidgety and they all had flights and trains to catch in the morning. Viktor and Greg both made a point of giving Kieran an extra tight hug as the group broke up. Back in their room Helena played with her Leapster for a while before it was time for her bath. She was perfectly content to have Greg play with her Mermaid Barbie and get her washed. At one point Greg thought he might have heard Viktor on the phone, but was not sure over the splashing and singing in the tub. He soon forgot all about it as it was shampoo time. Once she was clean and dry, she ran out of the bathroom ,still naked, and jumped on her other father. 

"Oh! There is little naked girl in here!" Viktor tickled her sides and she squealed. Greg followed her out of the bathroom with her little night dress in his hands. 

"Come, Lene. Let's get ready for bed," Greg urged. 

"I don't want to go to bed!" she declared with finality. 

"How about a movie then?" Greg offered. 

"Yes, Daddy, let's watch a movie," Helena was all for that idea. 

"You'll have to put this on first and be ready for bed," Greg negotiated. She obediently went to him and lifted her arms to slip into her night dress. "There we are," Greg tied the ribbon in a little bow at the loose neck. "So very pretty," he smiled and rubbed her shoulders. Viktor pulled down her bed and turned on the television with the remote. 

"What movie you like see?" Viktor settled in amongst the pillows with her. 

"Any one of the Shreks will do," she was nonchalant. 

"Then we find big, green Shrek," Viktor scrolled through the on demand children's movies. "Here he is," Viktor ordered the movie and paused it. "You watch movie. Daddy and I go out on patio for few minutes." 

"No! Watch it with me!" Helena demanded. "I want you too, Daddy," she held out her arms to Greg. Her British father's heart melted and all thoughts of coercing her to comply fled his mind. He did not know why Viktor wanted to go out on the patio, but he didn't care right now. Greg settled in on their daughter's other side and she was quite content snuggled between the men who loved her and were her whole world. It had been a big day for her and not ten minutes into her movie she was asleep. Viktor noticed it first and, as he still had the remote, shut off the television. 

"She's out," Greg observed. 

"Come," Viktor rose carefully from the bed. Greg did the same and took a moment to place her baby beside her and tuck them both in. 

"You want to sit outside? Fancy a beer or something?" Greg asked. 

"No. Come," Viktor repeated and took Greg's hand. 

"Okay," Greg was led to the sliding glass door and outside onto the patio.


	8. Friends in Need

Chapter 8: Friends in Need

Viktor led his partner by the hand out onto the patio where a bucket with champagne on ice stood to one side. Two flutes and a cling filmed plate of dark and white chocolate covered strawberries waited on the small table. 

"What's this?" Greg observed. "I thought I heard you on the phone." 

"Is for you," Viktor gestured. 

"What for?" Greg asked. 

"Is because," Viktor pulled Greg to him and put his arms around his partner's waist, "tomorrow we go to Varna. It mean so much to me when Helena, and especially you, come home with me. All my family together. It mean very much to me." 

"Vik," Greg put a hand to the lightly goateed face, "we're a family. Where you go, we go. The sweetest, most beautiful man, I have," he gave his partner a soft, loving kiss on his lips. 

"I open champagne now," Viktor smiled and let go of Greg. 

"I'll unwrap the strawberries, shall I?" Greg picked up the plate as Viktor pulled the bottle from it's icy bath. "Oh, I hope that doesn't wake her." 

"Oh," Viktor had not considered that. He stepped into the grass and around the dividing wall to the next room. As it was good champagne and very cold, it made only a small pop. Viktor stepped back to the table and poured. 

"Vik, dom?" Greg asked. 

"No say you not worth it," Viktor shut him up. He handed Greg a flute. "To my family, my partner and our daughter, the reason I am happiest man on planet." 

"My very thoughts," Greg said as they clinked their glasses together and took a sip. Viktor took hold of Greg by the back of his neck and pulled him in for sweet and lingering kiss. 

"Strawberry?" Greg asked with a smile as Viktor released him. 

"I feed you strawberry. Sit down," Viktor picked up one that had been dipped in white chocolate as he knew that to be Greg's favorite and fed it to his seated lover. He took the other chair and they sat together gazing out over the nighttime lawn and forest. 

"This was a lovely bit of a surprise, you big, romantic footballer, you," Greg took a sip. Viktor just smiled back. He reached over to hold Greg's hand while they enjoyed the quiet night. 

Until Greg's cell rang. He fished it out of his pocket. "Oh, it's Ashok," Greg read the display. He touched the button to answer and put the phone to his ear, "Hi, Ashok." 

"Greg?" came the tentative and unmistakable voice. 

"It's me, Ashok. Is everything all right?" Greg was concerned by Ashok's tone. 

"I do not really know. I am worried, Greg. I am so sorry to bother you. I know you and Helena are with Viktor," Ashok apologized. 

"You're not bothering us. Don't ever think that. What's going on, Ashok?" Greg pressed. 

"It is Rick. He left for work this morning and he said that he was going to see H this afternoon," Ashok began. 

"Right. I knew that. Is he not home?" Greg looked to Viktor with a worried expression. 

"No," Ashok answered. "I have not heard from him. I asked this morning if I should make dinner for us and he said yes, he would be home at the usual time, but that was hours ago. I thought he might be angry if I called and disturbed him. I just do not know what to do. I do not know if I should be afraid. I thought you might know. Is this normal, Greg?"

"It's not, actually. But let's not panic just yet. I'll give him a ring and see what's holding him up, alright? Keep your phone by you, Ashok," Greg bid. 

"I will. I am here at home. I am not going anywhere," Ashok advised. 

"Right. I'll ring you back shortly," Greg touched the button to end the call. 

"What going on?" Viktor asked. 

"That was Ashok, as you clearly heard. Rick is missing in action, it seems," Greg pressed a button and put the phone back up to his ear. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Cedric Diggory was still in the dress shirt and pants he had worn to work. His necktie was pulled completely open and just hung round his neck while his shirt was open several buttons from the neck. He sat at the bar in a narrow, but long little pub directly in the heart of the gay center of London. There was a front bar, where Rick sat with his half-empty glass of beer, a small dance floor and game room and then a second back bar. Rick almost never came here, but preferred the front bar when he did. The whole of the front opened onto Old Compton Street, which was actually quite pleasant this time of year. He might have engaged in people watching with scores of gay men walking by, but he was in no mood for it tonight. This place could get rather crowded on the weekends, but this early on a Thursday there were only a handful of patrons. His mobile sat on the bar beside his glass and he saw it light up as a call came in. A wry smile curled one side of his mouth when he saw who it was. How did he know? Well, how could he not know, really? Rick downed what remained in his glass as he picked up his phone. How many was this now? He had lost count. And he didn't care anyway. 

"Yeah?" Rick answered in a flat, disinterested voice. 

"Where are you?" Greg asked while he looked at his equally concerned partner. 

"Admiral Duncan," Rick answered. 

"Why are you at Admiral Duncan?" Greg probed. 

"Because I didn't want to run into anyone I knew while I got pissed up," Rick stated. 

"Sounds like you're well on your way," Greg observed. 

"Then there's one thing I did well tonight," Rick observed wryly. 

"Safe to conclude things did not go so well with H, then?" Greg stated. 

"Could say that," Rick was brief. 

"And would you say that?" Greg pressed. 

"I did say that," Rick confirmed. 

"What happened?" Greg urged. 

"I was going to talk to him. I wanted to talk to him, but I just, I really needed him, you know?" Rick's sorrow was plain in his voice. 

"I know," Greg made a resigned face to Viktor. 

"I got there half past twelve. It was a bitch of a day at work and I was running late, but I still made it there on time. I skipped lunch," Rick relayed.

"That explains a lot," Greg murmured. If Rick heard the comment, he ignored it. 

"I waited for him. I waited and waited. At half past four, I finally decided to go," Rick continued. 

"Four hours!" Greg exclaimed. 

"I know! I imagined the worst. I finally decided to go home, have dinner, and then do a tour of London hospitals to look for him, or call Ginny, or something. I don't remember now," Rick let out a small belch. "But when I walked out the door, there he was, coming up the street, sweet as you please. Briefcase over his shoulder. Necktie loose the way he does. Sexy as fuck," Rick elaborated. 

"Where had he been?" Greg brought Rick back to the point. 

"That's what I asked him. Got caught up at work, he said," Rick relayed. 

"And he couldn't call in all that time?" Greg asked. 

"Exactly what I said. He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside, but I stood my ground," Rick was defiant. "I told him I waited all afternoon for him. My whole bloody life is nothing but waiting for him. He told me to get in the house so we could talk in private. He didn't want to row in front of God and everyone, you see. He didn't want the neighbors to see us together at all. Fancy that! He'd be happiest if he could get me some invisibility cloak or shield or something, so no one would ever fucking see me near him." 

"I'm sorry, Rick," Greg commiserated. 

"Yeah, me too. And I wasn't going to play his game anymore, except then he said we had a half hour and what was the point in wasting it? And I needed to talk to him, you know I did, and you know what about," Rick babbled.

"I know," Greg confirmed.

"So," Rick gave a sigh, "like the good little lap dog that I am, I went back inside." 

"And?" Greg prompted. 

"He shoved me against the door and tried to kiss me. Maybe I should have let him. I wanted to kiss him. When I first got there I imagined him kissing me exactly like that! But by the time he arrived, I was so upset," Rick explained. 

"Sounds like you still are," Greg observed. 

"I am. It's true. It's been four weeks, Greg! A bloody month. I miss him so much. I get so little of him anyway, and lately I haven't even gotten that! He said it would be different. He promised! And nothing is different," Rick lamented. "Nothing except Ashy." 

"You deserve so much more, Rick. You deserve someone like Ashok. What happened with H?" Greg pressed. 

"I said, hang on a minute. I've been here all bloody afternoon. This is really important to me and I wished like bloody hell it was important to you too. I mean, him too. I said you too, to him," Rick stumbled over his words. 

"I got that. Go on," Greg urged. 

"He said that our meetings are important to him and I said if that was true he would have called. The one time I couldn't get away from work, I bloody damn well called, didn't I? But he just ignored me and asked if I wanted him in my mouth or my arse!" Rick mimicked H's voice.

"Oh, no," Greg got it. 

"Right. I told him to go home and plug up one of his wife's holes," Rick snickered

"What did he say to that?" 

"He said he wouldn't apologize for wanting to be with me and needing me. And I said I had needs too. I needed to be held, and I needed him to make love to me, and I needed to hear that he loves me. Instead I get treated like some cheap, meaningless rent boy," Rick sounded near tears. 

"Rick, I am so sorry," Greg looked to Viktor who read the situation from the sound of his partner's voice and the look on his face. 

"Not half as sorry as I was, am, fuck! What was I saying?" Rick asked, momentarily confused.

"You were telling H you had needs too," Greg prompted.

"Yeah, but I could see he didn't want to hear it, so instead of pounding my head against a brick wall, I left."

"And he let you go?"

"He said he wouldn't chase after me anymore. But he will. You know he will," Rick lamented. "He'll lie in wait somewhere, and just when I've finally convinced myself that it's truly over, he'll pounce again. That's what he does. It's like a fucking game for him. I'm tired, Greg. I'm so damn tired of being the fucking mouse."

"You don't have to be, Rick. Take control," Greg urged. "The next time he tries to contact you, just ignore him."

"Oh, that's bloody brilliant! So glad I have you to make that suggestion. It's not like I've ever tried that before," Rick was bitter.

"I know you've tried before, but just because it didn't work then, doesn't mean it won't work now. Things are different. You know they are,"Greg stressed. 

"I know, and I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's not your fault I'm so bloody weak. You have always been a good friend. I love you, mate," Rick expressed. 

"I love you too. You know we all do. But, Rick, what are you doing at Admiral Duncan? Why didn't you go home?" Greg asked. 

"I don't want to go home," Rick stated. 

"Why not?" Greg pressed. "You know Ashok is waiting for you." 

"Precisely because Ashok is waiting for me," Rick added. "I can't face him after what happened today."

"You're going to have to face him sooner or later," Greg pointed out and heard Rick curse under his breath.

"I was supposed to tell H about us today, to have a decision. He'll want to know one way or another, and what can I do? I can't tell him what happened."

"Why not? You told me easily enough. He's a compassionate kid. He'll understand," Greg encouraged. 

"Yeah, I know he will," Rick agreed morosely.

"Rick, what am I missing?" Greg probed.

"Nothing. It's just...,” Rick struggled to explain. “Right now he looks at me the way Vik looks at you or Vince looks at Dre, like I'm the bee's bollocks, I mean the dog's knees, I mean..." 

"I know what you mean," Greg cut in. "Why do you think that will change if you tell him what happened?"

"Because then he'll see me for the whipped arsehole I am, and he'll start looking at me the way you all do. Don't you think I know that every time any of you look at me you think 'that poor, miserable bastard'?" Rick challenged. "It'll kill me to see that look in his eyes."

Greg took a deep breath and thought about how to answer. "If he looks at you like that tonight, it will be because of what you've done to yourself, not because of what happened with H. And my guess is he won't even do that. He'll be too worried about you and too eager to make you better to bother judging you. He cares about you, Rick, a lot, and nothing that happened today is going to change that. He's already frantic with worry. He made dinner for you and grew concerned when you didn't get home when you said you would. He finally called me because he didn't know what else to do." 

"Oh, shit. I forgot about that," Rick admitted. "I didn't mean to make him worry. So sweet, Ashok is. And kind, and so beautiful," he began to ramble. 

"Then what are you doing crying into your beer?" Greg demanded. 

"You have to ask? It tears me up, Greg. Ashy is so sexy and sweet, all I want is to show him all the different ways I can make him feel good. But I still love H. and I don't want to be unfaithful to him, at least not any more than I already have been, not without telling him," I corrected. "I owe it to him to let him know, give him a chance..." Rick tried to explain. 

"A chance for what?” Greg cut him off. “You know how I feel about that, Rick. H is certainly not faithful to you. You didn't bear his children. And it isn't like he even feels badly about it. Just expects you to tolerate it, doesn't he?" 

"That’s my life right there. The man I love treats me like something he stepped in and the guy staying with me treats me like a bloody king when I have nothing to offer him. I don't know what to do, Greg," Rick confessed. 

"Rick!" Greg sat forward in his chair as he stressed his point. "Go home! Let Ashok take care of you. You know he wants to. Wait a minute. How pissed are you?" 

"I’m pretty arseholed, mate," Rick admitted. 

"If I were in the country, I would collect you myself," Greg thought out loud. 

"Bloody hell! I completely forgot. How is Viktor?" Rick asked. 

Greg looked at his lover, "He feels good all over." 

"Ha!" Rick slapped the bar with his open palm hard enough that Greg could hear it over the phone. "I'll just bet he does. You are so funny, Greg." 

"Rick, I'm going to call Vince. Will you stay there until he comes to collect you?" Greg asked. 

"The only way I'm getting off this stool by myself now is if I fall off," Rick stated. 

"Right then. I'll ring you right back," Greg lowered his phone and ended the call. 

"He not okay," Viktor concluded. 

"He most surely is not. Bloody H," Greg scolled through his numbers and put his phone back to his ear again. 

"I like to smack H good," Viktor confessed. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Vincent Crabbe wore a plain white tee shirt and denim shorts. He sat in the spacious living room of the three bedroom flat that he shared with his partner. Their flat was on the top floor of the building that Vince managed and Dré's parents owned. It was a five story building and there was nearly always something that needed his attention, day or night. Their home was decorated in a modern style with white fabrics and blonde woods. Malfoy Manor was all dark and Gothic and old world, and Dré wanted his home with Vince to be as unlike the home in which he grew up as it could possibly be. For his part, Vince didn't care. He was easy. If it made Dré happy, then Vince was happy. He sat now on an armless sofa eating Chinese take out right out of the trays with chop sticks. They had a great Chinese place only a few streets away and Vince got take away from them every chance he could. He sat in dim light with not a single lamp on in the flat. The wall mounted flat screen was on, but the majority of what light there was shone in from outside. It was never fully dark in their home. A surprising amount of illumination reflected off the Thames. The living room walls were glass, floor to ceiling, with a panoramic view of the river on which their building sat. The only thing Vince loved more than walking around their flat naked with all the open glass, was seeing Dré do it. When his cell buzzed in his pocket he imagined a clogged toilet or blocked drain needed his attention. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was a friend. 

"Ello, Greg. Thought you were in Austria," Vince greeted. 

"Hi, Vince. I am. Listen, we have a situation. Rick is at Admiral Duncan," Greg informed. 

"What's he doing there?" Vince asked. 

"Drowning his sorrows and they are well and truly drowned at this point," Greg explained. 

"What happened? Where's Ashok?" Vince was immediately concerned. 

"Ashok is at home waiting for him," Greg answered. 

"Don't tell me. H strikes again," Vince rightly concluded. 

"Indeed," Greg confirmed. 

"How bad is he? Do you need me to collect him, take him home?" Vince was ever ready to help. He walked to the kitchen with his tray in one hand and cell in the other. 

"Exactly why I'm ringing," Greg stated. 

"On me way. I'll take the car. At this hour I can probably be there in fifteen minutes or less," Vince deposited his take out in the fridge and headed for the door. 

"Thanks, Vince. You're a mate. Apologies to Dré and, if it's at all possible, Vince, could you go alone?" Greg requested. 

"No choice in the matter. Dré's not even home. Command performance tonight for the Shadow Home Secretary. Something about the campaign, though why I don’t know. It’s still years away, innit? Anyway, I'll ring you when I've got him. Cheers," Vince said and rang off. 

"He will get him?" Viktor asked. 

"He will. At least that's handled," Greg called Rick's number again. 

"Greg! It’s nice here. I wish you could come have a drink with me," Rick greeted. 

"Rick, listen. Vince is coming to collect you. He'll be there in just a few minutes," Greg informed. 

"That's fine then. Gives me time for one more," Rick concluded. 

"Rick, is the barman nearby? Could I possibly have a word with him?" Greg asked. 

"Ere! Oy!" Rick called to get the bartender's attention. "Hi," Rick smiled as the good looking man in a tight uniform tee shirt walked over to him. "Could I get another pint, please? And this is my very good friend Greg," Rick offered his cell. "He would like to speak to you."

The bartender looked at Rick suspiciously for a moment and then took the phone. "Yes?"

"Oh, hello there. Is this the barman?" Greg asked. "What is your name?"

"Yes, this is Drake," the bartender answered. 

"Drake, my friend Rick, whose phone you now hold, has had a really frightful day of it and I'm very much afraid he's gotten himself quite pissed," Greg began. 

"Yeah, looks like it," Drake agreed. 

"Another of our friends is on his way to collect him right now. I just need for Rick to sit right there at your bar and wait for him. Won't be fifteen minutes. Maybe you could just serve him a coffee at this point?" Greg asked. 

"Break up with his bloke?" Drake enquired. 

"Something rather like that," Greg admitted. 

"I'll take care of him. Gone through that m'self," Drake assured. 

"Thank you, Drake. You're a good chap. Fancy tickets to an Arsenal match?" Greg offered. He reached to take Viktor's hand. "I'm what you could call very intimate with one of the Gunners and I would be happy to drop off tickets to their season opener when I get back in the country." 

"What was your name again?" Drake asked. 

"Greg," he answered. 

"Greg, you don't at all have to do that, but I would love tickets to a match. My boyfriend is mad for the Gunners," Drake revealed. 

"I might could even arrange a visit to the locker room," Greg offered. He wouldn't take just anyone into the locker room with his press credentials, but if Drake and boyfriend seemed like good people, he would do it for them. 

"That would be just brilliant!" Drake enthused. "Johnny'd love that!" 

"I won't be back for about a week, but can I find you there at the Admiral?" Greg asked. 

"I'm here most nights," Drake confirmed. "And when I'm not, they know how to reach me." 

"Thanks for looking after our friend, Drake," Greg expressed again. 

"Seems like a decent bloke, your Rick," Drake watched Rick pour the rest of his pitcher into his glass, down it in one gulp, and push the pitcher toward the edge of the bar with a wink and a nod. "I'll hand the phone back to him now." 

"He seems nice," Rick spoke into the phone. 

"He does rather," Greg agreed. 

"I'm just going to wait for Vince, right?" Rick asked. 

"You do that, Rick. Would you like me to stay on the phone until he gets there?" Greg offered with a shrug to Viktor. 

"No," Rick shook his head. "Thanks, Drake. Hang on a minute. He gave me a coffee. Did you do that?"

"I did," Greg confirmed. "Might be the best thing for you just now." 

"S'okay. Got more at home. God, I could do with a piddle. Ashok's waiting for me at home, you know. Sweet little Ashok. I need to get something in my stomach," Rick rambled. 

"There's food waiting for you at home too, Rick," Greg reminded. 

"Did Ashok make something? I think he said he would. Yeah, I remember now. He's a bloody good cook, isn’t he? He takes such good care of me. All I want to do is take care of him, but he takes care of me too. I want to go to all of Viktor's matches this year. I don't want to miss even one and I don't bloody care if H comes or not. He probably won't, anyway. His wife never lets him out of the house, does she? Wanker. He can just bugger off. Christ I need a piss," Rick let his thoughts fall out of his mind and into the phone. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Vince and Dré were the only members of their circle of friends who owned a vehicle. Their own property was about the only place in London they could park it and so it often stayed put. Dré might have taken it tonight, but his father sent a car to fetch him. Lucius Malfoy's son would depart his home when he decided it was time and not before. At times like this, when his mother would be on his father's side as this had to do with the party, it was just easier for Dré to comply and so he had gone willingly. Vince drove the black Renault Clio GT out onto Grosvenor Road, which turned into Abington, Millibank and Whitehall as he passed through the government quarter and the Houses of Parliament. At the big roundabout before Trafalgar Square he took Cockspur Street and jogged over to Whitcomb, which was a one way street that would take him exactly where he needed to be. Just past Shaftesbury Avenue he came to the head of Old Compton Street in the heart of gay Soho, which was yet another one way street. Vince turned right onto Old Compton and immediately started looking for a place to park, even illegally, for the few minutes it would take. Admiral Duncan was in the first block and Vince found a tiny space that was even difficult for his small car to fit into in the next block. It didn't take him a minute to walk back to the Admiral and in through the front of the pub, which was open wide to the street. On the very first stool at the front bar, Vince found his quarry blathering into his cell. 

"Rick, mate, pissed up, are we?" Vince stepped up beside his seated friend an put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey! It's Vince!" Rick set his cell down on the bar and wrapped his arms around Vince, pressing the side of his face to Vince's chest as he did so. 

"Happy to see you too, mate," Vince rubbed Rick's back. He gestured to the bartender who walked over to them, "Are we settled up?" 

"All set," Drake nodded. 

"Oh, this is my good friend Drake," Rick put a hand on Vince's chest. He shook his head. "I mean, this is my good friend Vince, and this is my good friend Drake." 

"That's right, Ricky boy," Vince picked up the forgotten phone from the bar. He could see there was still an active call. "Greg?" 

"Yes, Vince, it's me. I heard all that. I see you've got him," Greg was relieved. 

"I've got him. He's done himself in alright. I'll pour his pissed arse home," Vince rubbed the drunk man's back while Rick's head rested on his chest. 

"I'll call Ashok. Thanks again, Vince," Greg expressed. 

"I'd do it for any one of you and I know you'd do it for me. Night, Greg. Give Viktor a smack on his arse," Vince instructed. 

Greg looked to Viktor as he laughed. 

"What?" Viktor asked. 

"Vince told me to smack your arse," Greg answered. "I'll be sure to do that," he said into the phone. "Night, Vince." 

Vince put Rick's cell into his own pocket and proceeded to lift Rick off his stool. "C'mon then, mate. Let's get you home."

"Hold up," Rick leaned heavily on Vince once on his feet. "I need to point Percy something terrible." 

"Let's make a quick stop in the loo then," Vince held Rick up with a firm arm around him as they headed deeper into the bar. There were bathrooms off the game room that each had two urinals and one stall. Vince steered Rick into the first bathroom and up to a urinal. 

"Can you get Percy out yourself?" Vince asked. He stood up close behind Rick with his hands on the taller man's hips to steady him. Rick giggled at the thought of Vince pulling his dick out for him. 

"Wouldn't Dré love you helping me with that?” Rick laughed. “I think I can manage," he unzipped, pulled himself out and rolled his foreskin back. Rick gave a most satisfied sigh as he let go with a heavy stream. 

"Jesus, mate, you did have to meet the pan," Vince said after a full minute. When Rick finished at last he shook himself off and put his dick back in his pants. 

"I feel so much better," Rick confessed as he turned around and draped himself on Vince. 

"Time to get on home, then," Vince shifted his friend to one side and walked him out of the bathroom and out onto the street. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Ashok tried three times to watch something on the television. Three times a programme came and went while he stared at it and saw or heard nothing of it at all. He took up pacing again. He had allowed himself to become a nervous wreck. Ashok had become very attached to Rick, probably more than he should have, but he couldn't help it. It was not just that Rick was powerfully sexy, there was that, but Rick had a quiet strength, a confidence and caring, a gentle kindness that Ashok found immensely comforting. Now Rick was missing and he did not at all know what to make of it. He could easily have called Rick's cell, of course, but he knew Rick was with H. Rick had explained about H and the last thing Ashok would ever want to do would be to intrude upon that. His cell rang and he snatched it up from the coffee table. 

"Greg! Did you find him? Is he okay?" Ashok fired his questions. 

"I did find him and he is rather not okay. Vince has him and is bringing him home now," Greg informed. 

"Is he hurt?!" Ashok asked alarmed. 

"Nothing like that. He's had rather a day of it and gone and gotten himself quite pissed. You'll have your hands full with him tonight, I'm afraid," Greg explained. 

"I hope I did not upset him," Ashok was concerned. 

"No, Ashok. Listen to me. Don't think like that. You are the only bright spot in his life, truth be told," Greg added. 

"He is for me too," Ashok spoke quietly, mostly to himself. "You all are, but he is especially so." 

"I'm sorry things are the way they are, Ashok. You are both good men and deserve to be happy. Vince should be there shortly. If you need anything at all tonight, you call me or call Vince, right?" Greg instructed. 

"I will, Greg. Thank you for finding him and getting him home," Ashok expressed. 

"All I did was call him. I know you didn't want to do that and I know why. Put a pot of coffee on. Try to get some food in him and keep him up for a while so he doesn't get the spins and get sick," Greg advised. 

"I will take care of him, Greg. Thank you so much," Ashok was most relieved. 

"No, thank you, Ashok. All our lives are the richer for having you in them, especially his. Have as good a night as you can. We're here if you need us," Greg assured. 

"Good night, Greg. Have a good time with your family. Say hello to Viktor and give Helena a big hug from me," Ashok offered. 

"I will. Good night, Ashok," Greg ended the call and set his cell down on the table. "Jesus." 

"Ashok seem like good boy. I want even more to meet him now," Viktor expressed. 

"He is that, Vik. He is that," Greg nodded and took a sip from his flute. 

"Maybe you like smack my arse now like Vince say?" Viktor gave his partner a leer. 

"Not while you have those pants on," Greg smiled. 

"Maybe then you help me take them off?" Viktor added. 

"Now you're talking, Gunner," Greg drained his glass and set it down as he rose. Viktor took his hand, paused to pick up Greg's cell, and together they walked back into their hotel room. 

They were awakened the next morning by a little body crawling over theirs, as usual. While it was not this way at home, Greg's side of the bed was the side toward her in this hotel room and Helena woke him first. 

"Mmm," Greg moaned as his daughter climbed up on him. 

"Wake up, Daddy," Helena patted Greg's chest. 

"Come then, my girl," Greg held up the sheet and moved to make room for her to snuggle in between her fathers, which she most happily did. "There," he tucked her in with them. 

"Hmm?" Viktor began to rouse. He felt her snuggle up to him. 

"Morning, Tatee," Helena stretched to kiss him. 

"Morning, Princess. I love wake up with my family," Viktor put his arms around both of them. 

"Me too," Helena turned to give Greg the same kiss she gave Viktor. 

"Me three," Greg cuddled them and they were still. All three of them were on the verge of falling back to sleep when the hotel phone rang to deliver their wake up call. Greg answered the bedside phone, listened to the automated recording first in German and repeated in English, and hung up. 

"Time to get up," Greg sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Both men had worn their boxers to bed last night. "I'll ring for a pot of coffee again, shall I?"

"Da, do," Viktor agreed. Greg did so and rose from the bed. Viktor smiled as he noticed that his partner's boxers were still a little tented from the morning wood that would have been in his mouth right now, had they been alone. 

"Now, little miss, what would you like to wear to go to grandmummy's house?" Greg asked as he opened their suitcase. 

"I can't wait to see grandmummy! I want to wear my yellow dress," Helena declared. "The one she sent me! 

"Yellow dress special to wear to church with baba," Viktor reminded. 

"Can I wear my yellow shirt then?" Helena asked. 

"Of course you can," Greg pulled it out and set it on her bed. "Come help daddy pack, Lene. You don't want to forget anything," he bid. 

"We help daddy pack and get juice," Viktor sat himself and his daughter up in the bed. He rose the normal way while she scampered off the end of the bed. Helena set about gathering up her toys while Viktor poured three glasses of orange juice.

"Come get juice," Viktor called. Helena skipped her way over to him and took her glass. She wandered back over to her toys, humming contentedly to herself as she went. Viktor stepped over to Greg with a glass in each hand. 

"Thank you," Greg took his juice. 

"Pleasure is mine," Viktor casually brushed the back of his hand against the protrusion in the front of Greg's boxers. 

"Behave," Greg smiled. 

"I am behave. Is cock in my mouth?" Viktor whispered. Greg only chuckled as Viktor walked away. Greg too found it difficult to think about anything other than falling to his knees as soon as he and Viktor got in the shower. But this morning, in addition to an impatient child at the door, they also had time constraints. 

The elaborate breakfast buffet helped them speed through the Sun restaurant. After breakfast, Greg went to the front desk to check out while Viktor and Helena went to fetch their bags. Helena of course, was no more help than wearing her own little backpack, while Viktor pulled along the big suitcase with his duffel on top of it, and Greg's carry on bag over his shoulder. They all met out in front of the hotel as agreed. The Rosicky family's bags were loaded onto a separate van that would take them to the train station. 

"Viktor, have fun with your family," Anezka gave him a hug. 

"Same to you," Viktor moved from her to give her husband a hearty clap on the back. 

"Greg, enjoy Varna," Baruska embraced him. 

"Enjoy Karel. But keep him wrapped up and don't do anything I wouldn't do," Greg whispered to her. She giggled and moved to Viktor. Helena had a hug for Eliska and Damek. Andrey, Lukasz and Kieran emerged from the hotel together and said their good byes to the Rosickys as well. 

"Bye," Greg waved as they climbed aboard their shuttle. "Safe trip." 

"Helena, will you sit by me on the drive to the airport?" Kieran bent down to ask her with an excited face. 

"I will!" Helena was all for that. 

"If it's okay with your dads," Kieran amended. 

"Of course is okay," Viktor stated. Greg bristled slightly at this. He had no objection whatever, but it would have been nice to be consulted. Gretchen quickly had all their luggage loaded. She closed the back doors and opened the side. 

"We are ready to go, ja?" Gretchen asked. In answer the passengers began to climb aboard. Kieran took the second row and Helena and Lukasz followed. Kieran was quick to move the little girl across him to give her the window and to be beside Lukasz himself. Greg, Viktor and Andrey took the first row. Gretchen took the wheel and they were off.


	9. Varna

Chapter 9: Varna

The dreaded little De Havilland Dash 8 stopped vibrating itself apart just as soon as it was airborne. Helena had giggled herself crazy by that time. She sat beside Greg, who was somewhat less amused. During the short flight to Vienna, Helena was all over the plane. She sat with Greg for take off, but went to sit with Viktor and even Kieran during the flight. While Helena occupied his seat, Lukasz sat with Andrey and Viktor sat with his partner. All the men were dressed casually in shorts and polo shirts, save Kieran, who wore a tee shirt, and Andrey, who wore jeans. Greg moved over into Helena's window seat as Viktor joined him. 

"We be in Varna in just few hours," Viktor smiled at his lover and took his hand. Greg smiled back at Viktor. He knew how much this meant to his partner. 

"It's too bad we don't get to see your family more often," Greg mused. "Especially your mum."

"Maika love you both," Viktor squeezed Greg's hand. 

"The feeling is quite mutual. I love all your family. Your sister is a good mum too. And there's another thing. It would be nice for Lene to be closer to her cousin. They get on so well," Greg pointed out. 

"When I leave Arsenal, we move to Varna," Viktor suggested. 

"Not while Lene is still in school. Still," Greg thought a moment. "It might be nice to semi retire in Varna. We could get a house on the outskirts maybe. Almost like living in the country. And certainly the boys are especially cute," he smiled. 

"You just look this boy," Viktor gestured to himself. 

"Oh, I am. What do you think brings me to that conclusion?" Greg smiled at his partner. 

Viktor lifted Greg's hand to his face and kissed it. "We get big house in country for when we have grandchildren," he gave a nod. 

"Planning for lots of grandchildren are we?" Greg asked. 

"You no want grandchildren?" Viktor asked. 

"Well, of course I do, but our little girl is still a little girl. She has her whole life ahead of her. I am not going to be one of those parents who pressures his daughter to get married and make babies," Greg stressed. 

"You no think I do that?" Viktor asked. Hurt was plain on his face. 

"No, of course not, Vik. You are the best father I have ever seen. I was just making the point. I know we're on the same page with this. Really, I can't wait to be a grandparent with you some day," Greg leaned his head on Viktor's shoulder. Viktor kissed the top of his lover's head. Then Greg started to laugh. 

"Why you laugh?" Viktor asked. 

"I was just thinking ahead. In order for us to become grandfathers, our little girl is going to have to meet herself a boy someday," Greg explained. "I was just trying to picture some poor kid coming round to call on Helena and trying to get through you." 

"He have to be scholar, from very good family," Viktor began. "Maybe royal, so he know how to treat princess. No long hair. No falling down trousers. Clean and respectful. Then I let him in house." 

"That's the criteria just to advance to the interrogation stage?" Greg smiled. 

"Da," Viktor confirmed. "Then he better spin me tale about never wanting sex with anyone," he stressed. 

"When Lene's a teenager I'm sure teenage boys who are not at all interested in sex will line up at our door," Greg teased. 

"That fine," Viktor nodded. 

"And they'll ride over on their unicorns. We'll have to put up a hitching post, I suppose. And just incidentally, these nonexistent teenage boys who ride unicorns and are not interested in sex, are not exactly conducive to the plan wherein we become grandfathers," Greg pointed out with a barely contained smile. 

"You think you smart guy, use your big brain," Viktor shook his head. Greg squeezed Viktor's hand as he laughed. 

"Still, I do know what you mean," Greg conceded. "I don't think I'll be ready for Lene to have sexual relations ‘till she's thirty." 

"Maybe we be grandfathers when we eighty," Viktor chuckled. 

"I doubt it's going to work out that way. Of one thing we can be absolutely certain. The first time she has sex, she is not going to ask for permission, or enquire as to what we think on the subject," Greg pointed out. 

"We have to raise her be careful, be responsible," Viktor stated. 

"And we are, Sweet. We are," Greg rubbed his lover's strong arm. It was a very short flight to Vienna and the announcement came to fasten seat belts as they noticeably began to descend. Greg stood up as best he could beneath the overhead bin, to look into the seats behind them.

"Are you ready to come back to your seat, little miss?" Greg leaned on the back of his own seat. 

"No," Helena answered simply from the window seat behind her fathers. 

"Kieran might like to sit beside Lukasz when we land," Greg pointed out. 

"It's okay," Kieran spoke up from where he sat beside her. He looked across the aisle to his partner who watched him carefully. "It's okay," he repeated and reached out to Lukasz. The Pole took his hand and held it a moment while they smiled lovingly into each other's eyes. 

"We're having fun, aren't we," Kieran snuggled Helena. 

"Yes!" she enthused. 

"Alright, then," Greg sat back down. "She's found another playmate." 

"Is okay. I get my Grigor," Viktor took his lover's hand again. 

In only a few more minutes the small aircraft bounced it's way down the runway at Vienna International. Once on the ground, the incredible vibration from the turboprops was back. Helena made a noise in her throat and let the vibration of the plane make it a rattling hum that she felt in her chest. Kieran joined his deeper timbre to hers. Greg and Viktor chuckled as they could clearly hear it from the seats right in front of them. They made their noise all the way to the gate and the propellers finally began to wind down. Then they both giggled themselves silly. 

"Mercy," Greg muttered as he released his seat belt. Viktor only smiled as he did the same. He led the procession off the plane, down the aircraft steps and onto the tarmac. Helena was right behind him and gleefully jumped off the last step. Greg followed her, Lukasz led Kieran by the hand, and Andrey was the last in their little group. The adults walked, while Helena skipped ahead of them, into the terminal building and up the steps to the gate area. Helena held Greg's hand as the group headed for main airport from the Terminal One Annex where the small regional aircraft gates were located. The concourse sloped upward and opened up in a large area with cafés and shops. Here the friends were forced to part company. 

"Have a good time, Viktor," Kieran gave his bigger teammate a hug. 

"And you, Kieran. Enjoy Poland," Viktor hugged the smaller man tightly. 

"Thanks for letting me monopolize your daughter," Kieran moved to Greg. 

"I think it was rather the other way round, but any time, mate," Greg gave the younger man a warm hug. 

"Take good care our boy," Viktor hugged Lukasz. 

"Always I do," Lukasz traded strong claps on the back with Viktor

"And you," Kieran squatted down to welcome Helena into his arms. "Have a good time with your grandma." 

"I will. I hope I’ll see you soon," Helena hugged Kieran for all she was worth. 

"I hope so too," Kieran held the side of his face to the top of her head. 

"Come here, Andrey," Viktor pulled the lone straight man into his arms. "Have good time with family in Russia." 

"Same to you," Andrey hugged Viktor back. Until his teammate reached down to grab his jean clad ass. "Nyet, nyet," Andrey pushed Viktor away. "Keep eye on this one, Greg," Andrey moved to his teammate's partner. 

"I will," Greg chuckled. 

"Let my Grigor feel fine Russian backside," Viktor moved his lover's hand down to Andrey's ass. Andrey did not fight this time. He just rolled his eyes in Greg's arms. 

"That is a fine Russian backside," Greg commented. 

"Does everyone want feel my arse?" Andrey asked. Lukasz and Kieran were quick to join Greg with a hand on Andrey's butt. Even Helena reached up to pat the Russian. 

"I can't wait tell my father four gay men molest me in Vienna airport," Andrey shook his head. Viktor and Lukasz laughed the loudest and clapped the straight man on his back. 

"Safe flight, my friends," Viktor bid. 

"Da svi' daniya," Andrey gave a wave. 

"Bezpiecznej podróży," Lukasz bid them a safe trip in Polish. 

"Bye," Kieran waved. All of them spilt up. Andrey would fly on Austrian to Saint Petersburg Pulkovo, Lukasz and Kieran would fly Lufthansa to Berlin Tegel, and Viktor, Greg and Helena would continue on Tyrolean to Varna Letishte. Fortunately for the men with the child whose little pink princess backpack was suddenly a great and terrible burden, their next gate was not far. Helena leaned forward in her valiant attempt to bear the tremendous weight. She grunted under the massive strain. 

"Come, Princess, is not far," Viktor took her hand. 

"Daddy, it's so heavy," Helena moaned. 

"You can do it," Viktor encouraged. 

"Oh, here's Brahms and Liszt," Greg noticed. "I'm going to get a pound of the Julius Meinl coffee to take with us and arrange to ship a load home." 

"Da, good," Viktor nodded. 

"Then maybe I'll get some lovely Viennese pastries from Café Melange over there for us to enjoy. You go on. I'll be there directly," Greg bid. 

"Okay, Slunchitze. Come, Princess," Viktor took a step, but Helena dug in her heels. 

"Wait! Where are you going, Daddy?" Helena looked to Greg with fear in her little blue eyes. 

"Just a quick bit of shopping. I'll be right behind you with goodies," Greg assured. 

"No," she shook her head. 

"You don't want a nice pastry?" Greg asked. 

"I don't want to leave you here!" Helena was as loathe to let her fathers out of her sight in an airport as they were her. 

"It'll be fine, Lene," Greg assured. 

"It won't!" Helena made a fist to emphasize her point. 

"We stay with daddy," Viktor moved toward Greg. This time Helena was right at his side. She quickly took Greg's hand as well and the little family proceeded into the shops. Greg shipped home coffee for them and Vince, obtained one for Viktor's mother and purchased enough pastries for them to enjoy and take some along to the mother-in-law as well. Viktor and Greg had a cup of the excellent coffee at the café, while Helena had an apple juice. 

And then she had to go to the bathroom. 

Viktor led her into the men's room this time, turning her head away from the occupied urinals and stood outside her door. Greg took a piss himself and then switched off with his partner outside their daughter's stall so that Viktor could do the same. 

Soon they were aboard the Fokker 100 and in the air en route to Bulgaria. As jet aircraft went it was tiny, but larger than the De Havilland on which they arrived. It was a single cabin plane with two seats on one side of the aisle and three on the other. Helena sat between her fathers on the three seat side and contented herself with her Leapster. The close to two hour flight passed without incident and before long they were landing in Varna. Helena opened her seat belt and climbed into Greg's lap to look out his window with him. Greg held her tightly in his lap while they both took in the beautiful countryside around the Black Sea as they came in to land. Viktor's heart swelled with joy to see the two people he loved so much, the two people who were his whole world, so happy and excited to be arriving in his homeland. He gave them a most loving and grateful smile, but they didn't see it. Greg and Helena were busy pointing out everything they saw to each other. In another few minutes they were on the ground. 

Varna Litishte was no larger than Graz Thalerhof, but here the aircraft did not pull up to any building. The planes parked on a wide apron off the single runway. The hatch of their Fokker 100 did not swing open, but slid out and aside toward the front of the jet. A small set of steps was pushed up to the plane and the passengers descended them to the tarmac. Helena took great pleasure in, once again, leaping off the last step. Two big buses were waiting to drive the passengers to the terminal. The airport was one long single story building with ticket counters and departure gates at one end, baggage claim and rental car counters at the other, and a small shop and questionable restaurant in the center. It was a Soviet era airport and looked it. Greg and Helena followed Viktor off the bus at the tarmac side curb and into the terminal. There was an almost constant announcement blaring in Bulgarian that was just so much harsh noise to Greg and Helena's ears. 

"Come, is this way," Viktor took Helena's hand and led his family to the baggage belt on which would soon come their luggage. "I will get rental car. You can wait here?" 

"We'll be fine," Greg assured. They had all done this in this airport before. Viktor was back with keys to their rental before the baggage belt even started up the last time, and this time proved to be no different. Eventually they had their bags. Viktor placed his duffel on top of the big rolling suitcase and set off. Greg, with carry on bag slung over his shoulder and child in hand, followed his partner. They all knew where they were going. The Avis Europe bronze color Opel Antara toy SUV, surprisingly enough, had leather seats, but was still a manual transmission. As Europeans themselves, Greg and Viktor thought nothing of it. Both could drive it, but only one would. Greg would never try to drive here and not just because they drove on the wrong side of the road. If there were traffic laws here, they were indiscernible to the Brit. Viktor loaded their bags into the back while Helena and Greg got in the vehicle. Greg first helped their daughter shrug off her backpack. She needed no help climbing up into the car and up into her booster seat. 

“Do you need help with the belt?” Greg asked. 

“No, Daddy,” Helena demonstrated by buckling herself in. 

“Here you go,” Greg handed her backpack to her and shut her in. He opened his own door and climbed in as well. “This is rather nice, isn’t it?" Greg admired. 

"I like it," Helena agreed. She made herself comfortable and set her backpack up beside her to have her belongings handy. In just another moment Viktor took the wheel. 

"We are ready?" Viktor asked with a broad smile. 

"No," Greg answered flatly. 

"What wrong?" Viktor was suddenly concerned. 

Greg could not stop the smile from spreading across his face. "We need a kiss first." 

"Always have kiss for you," Viktor put a hand to his lover's face as they leaned toward each other. Viktor gave Greg several soft, loving kisses on his lips. 

"Me too!" Helena unbuckled herself and jumped out of her seat. 

"Daddy have kiss for whole family," Viktor grabbed his little girl and gave her kisses all over her giggling little face. "Now we go," he started the Antara and pulled out of the parking space. 

"Put your seat belt back on, Lene. You know how daddy drives," Greg cautioned as he did so himself. 

"Da, put on belt, but I am safe. I know these roads," Viktor dismissed. They drove out of the airport at breakneck speed, like every other car on the road. The airport was close to the city and it was only a few miles into the heart of Varna, but that gave Greg no comfort. Other insane drivers were only the half of Greg's worry. They, like Viktor, had to work to dodge the significant and plentiful potholes even as they tried to avoid colliding with each other. 

"Oh!" Greg grabbed hold of his seat and the handle over his door as Viktor very narrowly avoided swiping an oncoming car. It would not be the last time both lanes of traffic would try to use the center to steer away from the disintegrating edges of the road. 

"Why you yell?" Viktor asked, perfectly calm. "We not hit car." 

"We came bloody close!" Greg exclaimed. 

"Close not count. Hit or no hit. I no hit. Am very good driver," Viktor assured with confidence. 

"Try to remember you have a child in the car," Greg reminded. Helena clapped and laughed from the backseat as Viktor swerved to straddle a pothole that looked like it could have swallowed half their SUV. 

"See? Is no problem," Viktor soothed. 

"Is it possible the roads are in even worse condition than last time?" Greg asked. 

"You know, five hundred years we under Turkish yoke," Viktor used the excuse that every Bulgarian had been taught since infancy to use to excuse any deficiency. 

"Are they still in charge of the roads?" Greg was flip. 

"That very funny," Viktor gave a deadpan look to Greg that made it clear he was being sarcastic. In the moment he took his eyes off the road they banged through another pothole and Helena laughed again. Then she noticed how her backpack slid so easily off the seat. Helena released her seat belt and climbed down to retrieve her backpack. The next big bump bounced her onto the floor and she giggled gleefully. 

"Helena, get back in your seat right now,” Greg was firm. Helena knew when her father used her full first name, and by his tone, that he meant business. 

“Daddy, my backpack fell down,” Helena felt compelled to explain. 

“Nevermind about the backpack. Get back in your seat, fasten your belt, and stay there,” Greg insisted. 

“Princess, get back in seat, please,” Viktor reinforced even as she did so. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Helena clicked her seatbelt together. “I’m fastened in now.” 

“Thank you, Lene,” Greg spoke in a much softer tone to let her know that it was okay. “Please stay right there until we get to grandmummy’s house.” 

“I will,” Helena pledged. 

Viktor slowed down only a little as they closed in on the center of the old city. Greg looked forward again and noticed that they were rapidly approaching an intersection. Like any ancient city, often several roads and streets came together. Such was the case here. Greg could see that there were two other cars heading into the intersection from two other directions at the same time as them and none of them were stopping. 

"Ah!" Greg cried out. Like it had been carefully choreographed and well rehearsed, all three cars shot into the intersection at once, flew around each other at speed, and kept going like it was perfectly normal, which to them it was. 

"Why you yell?" Viktor asked again as they barreled up the next street. 

"Because my life flashed before my eyes!" Greg exclaimed. "Your mum will take one look at my shorts and know what happened." 

"What you mean?" Viktor asked. 

"When I piss myself from fright!" Greg answered. 

"You not piss yourself," Viktor chuckled. He took the next sharp corner much too fast and looked at Greg out of the corner of his eye with a smirk on his face. 

"You did that deliberately! Would it be a terrible imposition to slow down?" Greg asked. 

"Slunchitze, is okay if you not know how to drive here. Leave to me," Viktor reached over to rub Greg's thigh. 

"Mind the wheel, please," Greg requested. 

"We almost there. Excited to see Baba?" Viktor called back. 

"Oh, yes!" Helena enthused. 

The ever narrowing streets brought them ever deeper into the old city. Everywhere there was evidence of buildings once grand. Facades were cracked and brick work exposed. In a few spots they could see the slow renaissance that tourism brought, beginning to restore the grandeur and reverse the decay. The process had only just begun and had a very long way to go. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

She sat out on the front porch, such a porch as it was. The house itself sat directly on the old and crumbling narrow sidewalk. Part of the front of the house had been recessed to make a small front porch, but that was far more years ago than the lady in her early fifties was old. She sat in one of the two little wicker chairs her son had purchased for her to adorn her little porch. There was just enough room for the matching tiny table and small settee. In nice weather like this she actually liked to sit out here. She enjoyed talking to her neighbors as they passed by. One in particular knew everything about the goings on of everyone on their street and was only too happy to share what she knew. Mother Krum was not quite portly, but far from thin. Her permed brown hair was now mostly gray, but she didn't care. She wore a flower print dress and an apron tied about her waist. She was forever in her apron. When she didn't make time to sit out front, she was in her kitchen, as she had been most of the day. There was always food in the Krum house and far more than the mother and one child she had left at home could ever eat. Friends knew it and stopped by frequently. Especially friends of her son, who always knew where they could get a good and hearty meal. Iskra Krum didn't mind at all. She was happy to feed hungry boys. 

Iskra looked up expectantly as a vehicle came down her street. The little car that drove quickly by had only the driver and was obviously not the one she was waiting for. She looked at her watch and gave a sigh. Iskra knew her first born and his family's flight was supposed to land at four thirty. It was now approaching five thirty. A bronze Opel Antara came flying up the street and quickly slowed down. Iskra recognized the occupants at once and was up out of her chair in a flash. Viktor stopped the car and just parked in the middle of the street. The man Iskra considered to be her other son-in-law emerged from the passenger side door with a big smile. 

"Grigor!" Iskra ran to him. 

"Hi, mum," Greg greeted as she threw her arms around him. He knew she liked it when he called her the British word for mother. He hugged her snugly as she rubbed his back. 

"Where Helena?!" Iskra called even as the child opened the back door, clamoring to get out. 

"Baba!" Helena cried. She leaped from the car right into her grandmother's delighted arms. Iskra laughed and hugged the child tightly. 

"Let me look you," Iskra set Helena down on her feet. "So big!" 

Viktor walked around the car by that time. He opened his arms, "Maika." 

"Syn," Iskra was enveloped in Viktor's big hug and he lifted her off of her feet as he did it. "Oh!" she hit her oldest son on his shoulder until he put her down. He didn't care one bit. 

"No leave car in street. Get things. Come inside," Iskra instructed. She took Helena by the hand and went up the two steps onto the little porch while Greg and Viktor set about transferring the luggage from the Antara to the porch. The house sat on a corner and Viktor parked the car around on this even smaller street as Greg moved the luggage into the house. 

The living room was fairly spacious for a very old home, though nothing the size of theirs in their flat in London. The furniture, while not shabby or worn, was lived in and every available space was covered with hand made lace. Greg had always admired the low, dark wood ceiling beams. Identical vertical beams lined the entry ways to each room and the stairwell. Like any proud parent, her walls were adorned mostly with pictures of her children when they were kids and as adults with their own families. It made Greg smile to see the one taken last Christmas of him and Viktor and Helena hung right beside one of Viktor's sister, husband and their daughter. The same one hung in the lounge of his parents inn in Scarborough. It also made Greg very proud to see a picture of his famous footballer in his Arsenal kit and beautiful smile, standing on the pitch with a ball under one arm. The man's mother could be no more proud of him than his partner. 

Iskra patted Greg on his upper arm, "We have coffee."

"Oh, I'm very glad you mentioned that. We have a few small things for you," Greg started to unpack right there in the living room. He handed her the Café Melange box first. "Some pastries from Vienna. That's just for you. And some wonderful coffee for all of us," Greg produced the bag of ground coffee. 

"Very nice. Is good?" Iskra asked. 

"Very good," Greg confirmed. Viktor walked in the front door at that moment. 

"Where Kliment?" Viktor asked. 

"Oh. He sleeping," Iskra walked to the stairs. "Kliment! Come down. Viktor is here!" she called in Bulgarian while smacking her hand on the wood post. Greg gave a start when she did that. He had forgotten how loud Bulgarians could be. His own Bulgarian was much toned down after so many years in the UK. Viktor saw this and put an arm around his lover with a big smile. Greg just gave a grin and shrugged. 

"He sleep through bomb, that boy," Iskra switched back to English. 

Viktor let go of his partner and walked over to the stairs. "Kliment!" he pounded on the post with his fist. "That get him up." 

"I make coffee," Iskra took the bag and her box of pastries back into the kitchen. 

"Can I help you, Baba?" Helena skipped after her grandmother. 

"Da, you help me!" Iskra was delighted. 

A twenty year old man came down the stairs from the second floor on his bare feet. The younger version of Viktor wore only a pair of boxers and, like his older brother, had only a light dusting of hair between his pecs and a wider swath of fur that ran down from his belly button. Kliment gave a sleepy yawn as he ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair. 

"You hear me?" Viktor smiled. 

"In Sofia they hear you," Kliment complained. Viktor hugged his brother and both grunted as they tried to squeeze the life out of each other. They broke apart with hard claps on the back. 

"Come here, Grigor," Kliment grabbed Greg next. 

"Hi, Kliment," Greg hugged his bother-in-law and was grateful that the man was much more gentle with him. 

"You have good trip?" Kliment asked as they broke apart. 

"Until we got in the car just now," Greg admitted. 

"Zahshto?" Kliment could not imagine what might have been wrong on the drive from the airport. 

"They not drive like us in UK," Viktor clarified. 

"How they drive?" Kliment bid. 

"Like Maika," Viktor teased. Greg made a face at him while Kliment laughed. Helena came bounding in from the kitchen. 

"Uncle Kliment!" Helena stopped suddenly and put a hand to her face as she thought hard. "I mean, cheecho Kliment!" she remembered. Kliment squatted down and she flew into his arms. 

"You so smart momichentse," Kliment received her warm hug and kiss on his cheek. "How many language you speak?"

"Oh," Helena had never considered that. "Two!" she exclaimed. She didn't really, of course. Like her British father she only knew a few Bulgarian words, but none of the adults corrected her. 

"Kliment, you have coffee?" Iskra asked as she walked out of the kitchen. Then she caught sight of her youngest son in only boxers. "Oh! Go put on clothes!" 

"Zahshto, Maika? Is just family," Kliment protested. He raised his arms to defend himself as his mother started to swear at him in Bulgarian and hit him with the kitchen towel she had in her hand. "Da, da, I go," Kliment jumped out of her reach and charged up the stairs. Iskra shook her exasperated head. Viktor stuck his hands in his pockets and chuckled. 

"We put coffee. Come, come," Iskra summoned. 

"We sit outside, Maika," Viktor announced as he walked into the kitchen. 

"Da, we sit outside," Iskra agreed. 

"Shall I take the bags upstairs?" Greg asked. 

"No. I take," Viktor came back out into the living room and began to pick up the luggage. He took the two heavy bags and headed up the stairs. Greg took what was left and followed. The room that was once Viktor's was now Kliment's. Greg tried very hard as they passed it not to look at his partner's younger brother who stood facing away from them wearing only a tight tank top. The room that had once been Vladimira's was now a guest room that was just big enough for the double bed and a single bedside table. They both placed their burdens on the bed and Greg set about opening the big suitcase. He hung up their suits and dress shirts on what was less a closet and more a corner rack. Kliment appeared in their doorway wearing black sport shorts with his tank top. 

"Ready for church," Kliment gestured with his chin toward the suits Greg had just hung up. 

"Da," Viktor confirmed. "You get grapes?"

"Da," Kliment nodded. 

"Come," Viktor took Greg's hand. "We leave rest for later," he led Greg back downstairs and Kliment followed. 

Once they had their mugs, and an Orangina for Helena, they went back outside onto the little porch. Helena sat with her grandmother on the little settee while her fathers took the twin chairs. 

"Why we outside?" Kliment asked. 

"Is nice day," Viktor answered. 

Kliment just gave a shrug and sat on the steps. "This good coffee. Where you get?"

"It's Julius Meinl from Austria," Greg answered. 

"I like. You send more," Kliment gestured with his mug. 

"I send you kick in arse," Viktor threatened. 

"You not so much bigger than me. I no more take govno from you," Kliment boasted. He made a fist and flexed his bicep to emphasize his point. Viktor, ever so slowly, stood up. Kliment did not, but straightened defensively, ready to jump if needs be. Iskra yelled at them in Bulgarian. Greg did not understand a word of it, but was sure he agreed. 

"Yes, please let's we not have a roll around in the street wrestling match," Greg added. 

"You lucky Grigor and Maika here to protect you," Viktor sat back down. Iskra was close enough to her eldest son to whap him on his upper arm with the back of her hand. Viktor did not even notice it. 

"I no need protect," Kliment boasted and took a sip of his coffee. 

"You no think?" Viktor was not about to let his little brother have the last word. 

"Nyama!" Iskra demanded and both her sons complied, almost. They both looked at each other and nodded slowly. 

"You two are so competitive," Greg observed. 

"Elena, when you start school?" Iskra asked, changing to a more pleasant subject. 

"Daddy, when do I start?" Helena asked. 

"First of next month," Greg answered for her. 

"Do you see school?" Iskra asked further. 

"Do I see it?" Helena tilted her head as she looked up at her grandmother. She did not understand the question. 

"Baba means if you've been to see your school," Greg helped to translate. 

"Da," Iskra confirmed. 

"Oh, yes!" Helena enthused. 

"The Fox School is really charming and only three blocks from the flat. It's the other side of Notting Hill Gate road, though, so she won't ever be walking there without an adult," Greg elaborated. "We went to see it with Helena's little friend Emily and her mum."

"Just mums," Kliment found himself very funny. Viktor stood up again. This time Kliment jumped up and out onto the sidewalk out of reach. 

"Are you mum?" Kliment laughed as he pointed at his big brother. Viktor took a step toward Kliment and the younger man danced further away out into the street. 

"Vik, he's just being cute. Come sit," Greg soothed. 

"My dasteria have two tatee," Viktor held up a hand with thumb and forefinger extended. 

"I just cute," Kliment held up his hands. 

"Nyama!" Iskra commanded again. 

"Come sit, Vik," Greg reached out to him. 

"He be cute when I put his face on street," Viktor threatened as he sat back down beside his partner. 

"You be cute when I knock head together!" Iskra warned. 

"Spri, Viktor. You make Maika angry," Kliment returned to his seat on the steps. 

"I make," Viktor shook his head. 

"Don't fight, Tatee," Helena looked up at Viktor with big eyes. 

"Tatee not really fight with cheecho, Princess. We just play," Viktor assured his daughter with a smile as he reached to rub her shoulder. 

"Tell more about school," Iskra prompted. 

"I love it. I can't wait to go!" Helena was excited. 

"Emily's mum Claire and I met the Headmaster and took a tour of the whole place," Greg added. "And Fox School doesn’t have uniforms, which I really like. I remember how much I disliked wearing mine all those years. The children are encouraged to be themselves and express their individuality."

"I take both little princess to school while Grigor at work. Claire bring them home," Viktor put in. 

"There's a breakfast for all the Fox children and parents in the school hall on the first day, so I've arranged to go in late that day," Greg continued. 

"I look forward to this," Viktor nodded. "First time I see school." 

"Did I tell you about their World Book Day?" Greg asked his partner. 

"I no think so," Viktor shook his head. 

"Every child is encouraged to bring a book, or any type of media, about their hero on that day, and even dress like them," Greg explained. 

"Oh," Viktor found this a great idea. "Who your hero, Princess?"

"You can't guess?" Greg asked. 

Helena looked at her father with big eyes and a most innocent expression. She could not imagine how her father did not know. "You, Tatee." 

Viktor's family watched his face transform. His smile faded and his jaw slowly dropped. He slid out of his chair, onto his knees and reached for his daughter. Helena was only too happy to fall off of the settee and right into his arms. Viktor said nothing. He clutched his child to him and Helena pressed her face to his chest as she held onto him. She knew no greater safety and security than her father's strong arms. Viktor was motionless for a long moment with his eyes squeezed shut as he held his daughter. Greg reached to rub his partner's broad back. 

Viktor looked to Greg, "Is most beautiful thing." A tear escaped his eye. 

"I know," Greg agreed softly with a smile. Viktor took hold of Greg's shirt and pulled him from his chair into a hug with them. Iskra clasped her hands to her bosom. She was most grateful to be able to witness this moment. It filled her with joy and pride to know that her son was admired and cherished as a husband and father. Kliment watched with a broad smile, and without comment. He was very happy for his brother. Viktor wiped at his eyes at last and let his family go. They all returned to their seats. 

"We have to get little jersey," Viktor observed. 

"I ordered a jersey with your name and number in her size," Greg informed. 

"Oh, I can't wait to see!" Viktor enthused. "Thank you, Slunchitze." 

"I forgot you call him slunchitze," Kliment chuckled. 

"What does it mean exactly again?" Greg asked. 

"It mean like small sunshine," Kliment translated. 

"Little sun," Viktor corrected. "Because you are for me," he took Greg's hand. 

"That's so sweet, Vik," Greg smiled. "I knew I liked it." 

"When Vladimira come, Maika?" Kliment asked. 

"They come soon," Iskra rose. "I have things doing in kitchen." 

"No, Maika," Viktor protested. "We take to dinner tonight. We told you no cook today."

"Sweet syn," Iskra patted Viktor's shoulder. "Is for tomorrow. We go to church and have big Angliysky zakuska for my Grigor and Elena," she ran her hands down the back of Greg and Helena's heads. "Then we have nice big vecheria in afternoon, and zagoveznishka cake with fine coffee in night," Iskra outlined. She then headed into the house with her coffee cup. 

"You know what she say?" Viktor asked. 

"No," Helena answered. 

"Angliysky zakuska is English breakfast," Viktor informed. 

"Ah," Greg got it, "and I'm pretty sure vecheria is dinner." 

"Dobra," Kliment gave a nod. 

"He say good. Speak English, Kliment," Viktor bid. A smart little station wagon the same color as their rental came down the street at that moment and slowed down in front of the house. 

"Is this them?" Greg asked. 

"Is them," Kliment confirmed. He waved to the car and his sister waved back from the front passenger seat of the Fiat Croma. Helena jumped from the settee as the adults rose. They walked out into the street as the car turned the corner. They walked around the house to find their family parked right behind the Antara. 

Helena took Viktor's hand and looked up at her father, "Tatee, how do I say auntie?"

"Lalya," Viktor smiled. They walked up behind the car as the passengers emerged. 

Petar Stoyanov was a striking man with dark features and a sharp, square jaw. His jet black hair was not too short, but trimmed nicely and fell partially over a serious brow. He wore a form fitting vest buttoned up over a plain white tee shirt with snug jeans. His beautiful wife had a mane of rich and lustrous brown hair that fell over her shoulders. She needed little make up on her perfect skin. She wore a loose blouse with the tails tied about her waist, revealing a good amount of ample cleavage and several inches of her midsection to the top of her jeans. While her husband wore sandals, she wore high heels and still did not match his height. Their daughter Radka wore little denim coveralls over a white frilly button shirt. Her very dark hair was cut in an easy bob. 

"Vladimira!" Viktor was all smiles. 

"Viktor!" Vladimira rushed into her older brother's arms. 

"I am so happy to see you, little sister," Viktor spoke softly in Bulgarian as he held his sister. 

Helena just naturally gravitated to men. "Hi, cheecho Petar," she bounced right up to him. 

"Helena, even more beautiful girl than last time," Petar squatted down to greet her. "And so big now. Radka, you remember Helena," he bid his shy daughter forward. He stood up and smiled as the little girls hugged each other. 

"Grigor," Vladimira moved from her brother to his partner. 

"Hi, Vladimira," Greg gave her a hug and exchanged kisses on the cheek. "It's lovely to see you," he smiled as they pulled apart. 

"You too! I so happy when Viktor come home and bring his family," Vladimira rubbed Greg's shoulder. 

"Hi, lalya Vladimira," Helena reached for her aunt. 

"Helena, sweet momichentse," Vladimira bent down to give her a kiss. "So pretty girl!" she put a gentle hand to Helena's smiling face. 

"Petar," Viktor gave his brother-in-law in a warm hug with a hard clap on the back. 

"Viktor, good to see you," Petar was sincere. He well remembered what it took to win this man's approval to marry his little sister, and what it meant once he had. Viktor had walked Vladimira down the aisle when she married Petar. When they reached the altar, Viktor had grabbed a surprised Petar in a tight hug before he presented the man his bride. 

"Greg," Petar made a point to say the Brit's name in English. 

"Hi, Petar," Greg shared a one armed hug with the straight man. 

"Look my girl!" Viktor squatted down to greet his niece. "Ti si hubava," he pulled her to his chest. 

"Zdrasti, cheecho Viktor," Radka gave him a kiss on his cheek. 

"Radka," Kliment called to her. He took Helena's hand and just as soon as Radka joined them in a circle all three of them began to dance around. Kliment sang while the girls giggled. 

"Petar, we are in same boat," Viktor put a hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder as he shook his head. 

"Da?" Petar asked. 

"We both have very pretty little girl. We have ten years maybe before no more sleep at night," Viktor lamented. 

"Is true!" Petar laughed as he agreed with a nod. Greg chuckled and nodded to himself. He too was certain of that. They all turned when they heard the girls in question begin to shriek. Kliment had squatted down and picked them both up. He now had a niece over each shoulder. They play screamed with their hands on his butt and kicked at the air, while he spun around in the street. He then headed for the front of the house with them still over his shoulders and the parents followed. Kliment carried the kids right into the house. 

"Oh, put down," Iskra chastised. Kliment obeyed as it was his intention to do so just as soon as he got inside the house anyway. 

"Petar," Iskra reached for him and stretched to give him a kiss. "Now have all my boy," she patted her son-in-law on the cheek. 

"Zdrasti, Maika," Vladimira gave her mother a casual kiss on the cheek. Iskra said nothing, but patted her daughter's cheek as well. 

"Radka, you have kiss for cheecho Grigor?" Vladimira asked. 

"Da!" Radka ran over to Greg. "I sorry, cheecho Grigor," she reached up to him. Greg sat down on the nearest chair and welcomed his niece into his arms. 

"Quite alright, my darling girl," Greg hugged her warmly. "Let me look at you now. I swear, you get prettier every time I see you," he kissed her on the cheek. She did the same to him, and dashed back to Helena and Kliment. 

"Where we go to dinner? I starve," Viktor rubbed his stomach. 

"I starve also," Kliment spoke up. 

"You always starve," Vladimira gave a dismissive wave. 

"I make reservation at Zaliva," Petar informed. Petar and Viktor were the same age, but as the oldest male in the local family, Iskra, Vladimira and Kliment just naturally looked to his leadership. 

"Is that the seafood place, the one down on the water?" Greg asked. 

"Da. Is good," Viktor stated. 

"I know you both like," Petar smiled. None of them wanted a restaurant with traditional Bulgarian cuisine as they could find none better anywhere than they could get at home. 

"Let's go," Kliment urged. 

"We have time. Reservation is not for while yet," Petar informed. 

"I need get ready. You change too," Iskra pointed at her youngest child as she headed up the stairs. Without warning and entirely without provocation, Viktor landed a hard punch on Kliment's upper arm. It startled the younger man more than it hurt him and Kliment punched his brother back in the same place as hard as he could before he dashed up the stairs behind their mother. Viktor just chuckled while Greg shook his head. Petar and Vladimira thought nothing of it. 

"Maybe we get drinks, if table not ready. Get something quick for little ones," Petar suggested. 

"Are princess hungry?" Viktor asked both girls. 

"Yes, Tatee," Helena answered. Kliment was back down in a flash in cargo shorts and a short sleeved button shirt that he wore untucked. Iskra however, was another matter. She wanted to put on a different dress and the simple strand of pearls her son had given her, and primp her hair. When she finally made it downstairs, Iskra found Kliment wearing Helena on his back and Viktor doing the same with Radka. 

"We ready?" Viktor asked. 

"Da, da," Iskra picked up her big purse. The two men carried the giggling kids piggy back out the front door and the rest of the adults followed. Viktor took the wheel of the Antara and even though Greg offered to let her sit in front, Iskra sat in the back with Radka. Kliment and Helena sat in the backseat of the Croma while Vladimira sat beside her husband. Viktor waited for his brother-in-law to pull out and took up behind him as they headed for the sea. Once on the waterfront, it took more time to find parking than it did to drive down there. 

Zaliva was a particular favorite of Greg's. Finer waterfront dinning could not be found anywhere. At two and a half leva to the pound sterling, it was also quite reasonable. The open air restaurant sat within what was made to look like ancient Roman walls. There were two dinning areas, the first in what appeared to be a hollowed out galleon with a canvas roof that was more formal with fine linens and upholstered chairs, and a second that was less formal with wood tables and chairs a few steps down right on the sand of the beach. Both had the same menu. They had their choice when they arrived and opted sit out on the sand. Petar ordered a round of plum rakia for the adults with a shopska salad and apple juice for the kids, even as they were handed their menus. Bulgarian meals just normally started out this way and it never occurred to him that anyone might think otherwise. Greg didn't mind. This was a part of his partner's culture and he loved it. The most of the menu changed every day based on what was caught and brought in by local fishermen only that morning. The tomato, cucumber, pepper and goat cheese salad, plated individually, arrived at the same time as their rakia. 

Petar raised his glass, "Nazdravie!" 

Viktor put his arm around Greg and pulled him close. "Family," he added. 

"Nazdravie," Kliment agreed. Petar, Viktor and Kliment took a gulp of the fiery liquid, while everyone else took a sip. They had plenty more time to peruse the menu as their waiter was busy lighting the tiki torches around the beach dining room. It was just as well that they ordered course by course, one at the time. Even Greg knew of the Bulgarian custom of courses coming to the table entirely at random and rarely in order. The ladies switched to white wine after their initial rakia while the men opted for beer. Greg ordered his favorite Bulgarian lager Almus, while Petar favored Zagorka and the Krum brothers remained true to the local MM Varna beer. All four men found they were very thirsty and their beers fitted them just right. The waiter brought a second round quickly without even being asked. Greg made up his mind right then that he would see that this man received a generous tip. 

Greg watched Viktor interact with his family. Certainly they were very different from his own very British, and markedly quieter, family in North Yorkshire. The Krum family was loud, but not vulgar. They had only love for one another. Even when the two very competitive brothers threatened repeatedly to beat each other up, it was only their way of expressing their love for each other. Despite their boasts, and the occasional punch, they both knew they were only playing. These were good people. Greg counted himself and his daughter lucky to be included among their number. Testament to their good and loving nature was the fact that he and Helena were both just as much a part of this family as Petar and Radka. Viktor and Helena were just the same, every bit as much a part of the Goyle family. Greg reasoned that it was perhaps less remarkable in Scarborough, where the city was among the first in the UK to sponsor an annual gay pride picnic in a central city park, than in a deeply religious place like this country. It just made the Krum family all the more amazing in Greg's eyes. 

He smiled as he watched his partner engage in a hearty laugh over something Petar and Kliment were talking about. The more they drank, the louder they grew, but so did every other table out on the sand. Greg was not able to make out what they were talking about. They made every effort to speak in English for his benefit, for which Greg was very grateful, but when they could not translate the word they wanted to use quickly in their head, they used the appropriate Bulgarian word. Viktor made a point to translate for Greg, but he didn't always notice it. Greg didn't mind. It was only important for him that Viktor enjoy himself and get as much out of his time with his family as he possibly could. Living in London, they did not get to see them nearly as often as they would all like. 

Dinner was a slow, multi-course elaborate affair. As the hour grew late Radka fell asleep on her mother, only because her father was engaged in much more boisterous and animated discussion. Helena fell asleep on Greg for exactly the same reason. Eventually it was time go. Viktor paid the check and Greg carried Helena while Vladimira handed Radka off to her father. The cars were a block and a half up from the beach. 

"We say goodnight now," Vladimira gave everyone a kiss while her husband laid their daughter in her seat in the backseat of the Croma. 

"We see you for church in morning," Iskra rubbed her daughter's back. "No be late." 

"Da, Maika," Vladimira agreed. 

"Leka nošt, Maika," Petar gave his mother-in-law a kiss and a wave to everyone else. Iskra just patted his cheek. They continued on to the Antara as Petar, Vladimira and Radka drove off into the night. They lived a half hour drive to the north, but at this hour it would not take that long. Their new subdivision was a good ten miles inland, but higher in the hills such that from their back porch and yard they had an excellent view to the Black Sea. Greg placed Helena in her seat and sat beside her. Iskra joined him in the backseat while Kliment sat in front with his brother. Greg was not overly concerned that his partner had been drinking and was now behind the wheel. Certainly he knew these roads well. It was barely a mile home, and if he drove badly, no one in Bulgaria would ever be able to tell. Viktor parked around the side of the house on the even smaller side street and lifted a peacefully sleeping Helena out of her seat. Kliment let them into the house and locked up behind them. 

"Who want beer?" Kliment asked. 

"Let me just put princess to bed," Viktor agreed. 

"You no stay up all night. Church in morning," Iskra warned.

"Da, Maika. We not up late," Viktor assured. He followed his mother up the stairs. 

"Greg, I have Almus for you," Kliment informed. 

"Aren't you just a lovely boy," Greg smiled. 

"Viktor tell me ten time make sure I have for you," Kliment walked into the kitchen and Greg followed. "But I still lovely boy," he gave a grin as he extracted three bottles from the fridge. Greg just smiled and shook his head. 

"I'm sure all the girls in Varna would agree," Greg accepted his opened bottle. 

"Not all, but I work on it," Kliment touched his bottle to Greg's and they both took a gulp. They heard Viktor come down the stairs and Kliment handed his brother a bottle as soon as he walked into the kitchen. 

"Blagodarya," Viktor took his bottle. All three men sat at the kitchen table. 

"Blagodarya for dinner," Kliment countered. "Both of you." 

"Glad to do it, mate. It's just so nice to be back here with everyone," Greg stated. 

"Da," Viktor agreed with a nod.

"You away too long," Kliment observed. 

"We think so too. Though, mind you, we would love to have all of you visit us in London," Greg pointed out. 

"Da, come to London," Viktor put his fist to Kliment's shoulder and gave him a shove. 

"You have pretty girls in London like nice Bulgarian straight boy?" Kliment smiled. 

"We have loads of pretty girls in London," Greg stated. 

"But they no like you," Viktor teased. 

"You no think so?" Kliment asked with a smirk. 

"I could probably name several dozen women right off the top of my head at the BBC who would love to get a taste of you," Greg alluded. "Some are a good bit older than you though." 

"That fine. I like older woman," Kliment enthused. "Older woman know what she want in bedroom. Is very good sex every time. I like little," he didn't know the word and just patted his hip, "and big tsitsi." 

"Well, we'll see what we can do," Greg laughed. 

"What about boss?" Viktor asked. 

"My boss? Connie? She's old enough to be his mother," Greg observed. 

"She eat little straight boy alive," Viktor threatened with a wag of his eyebrow. 

"I like. When I come?" Kliment was all smiles. 

"Very shortly after you meet Connie, I suspect," Greg could not resist the easy pun. Viktor got it and laughed. 

"What?" Kliment was in the dark. 

"You come to London any time you want," Viktor gave a nod. "We take good care of you." 

"I dream of it tonight and, how you say, whip up?" Kliment asked. 

"Have a wank," Greg corrected. 

"Da. I have wank good," Kliment snickered. "Oh, wait," a thought occurred to him. "These walls thin. You two no fuck all night?" 

"Maybe not tonight," Viktor teased. 

"And maybe not the whole night. We're not as young as you are," Greg could not help himself. 

"Oh," Kliment shook his head. "I sleep with pillow over head." 

"Sleep with pillow over face," Viktor urged. 

"I put pillow over you face," Kliment threatened. 

"Come into our room and we shall pull you into bed with us," Greg countered. "How would you like that?"

"Ne," Kliment shook his head. "In this case, I no even go upstairs," he assured. 

"You not even have to sleep in house. Go outside with chickens," Viktor gestured with his chin. 

"I put chicken in you bed," Kliment punched Viktor on his upper arm. 

"Gus," Viktor chuckled. Greg recognized the Bulgarian word for ass. Kliment tipped up his beer to finish it, set the bottle on the table and gave a loud belch. 

"Leka nošt, Grigor," Kliment patted his brother-in-law on the back as he rose. 

"Night, Kliment," Greg bid. 

"Leka nošt, Tapak," Kliment patted his brother on the back as he walked past. Viktor just chuckled. 

"Tapak?" Greg did not know this word. 

"Idiot," Viktor translated. 

"Oh," Greg laughed. He shook his head. "You two antagonise each other so." 

"Da," Viktor agreed and drained his bottle as well. Greg just smiled and did the same. 

"Come now," Greg took Viktor's hand. "Take me to bed, you big, strong, sexy tapak." 

Viktor just chuckled again as he rose from the table. He gave Greg's hand a loving squeeze and led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. They went up as quietly as they were able. 

"Let me just look in on Lene," Greg whispered. 

"I put on light in our room," Viktor let go of Greg's hand as they parted. Greg pushed open the door that was not quite closed to what had been Kliment's childhood room. It was barely larger than a closet and held a single chest and a set of bunkbeds. Helena and her baby were sound asleep on the lower bunk. Greg smiled as he watched his peacefully sleeping child for a moment. He pulled the door back and crossed the hall. In their room Viktor stood in the light of the single lamp on the single bedside table, shirtless. 

"This is how I like to find you, almost," Greg shut the door fully, and quietly, behind him. Viktor smiled as he unbuttoned his shorts and ever so slowly began to pull down the zipper. 

"Would you like me to help you with that?" Greg asked with a leer. 

"Oh, da. I no think I can get myself," Viktor stopped half unzipped. Greg knelt ever so reverently before his buff Bulgarian partner and took over on the zipper. He slowly lowered it the rest of the way and leaned in to give Viktor a kiss in his trimmed pubes. The meaty flesh of the big Bulgarian snake was all that kept the shorts from falling to the floor. Greg slowly eased them down until Viktor's growing hose swung free and the shorts dropped. Greg took hold of Viktor's thighs and leaned in to press his face into his lover's sex. Even more than the feel of Viktor's heavy cock along his cheek, Greg loved the scent of his lover's balls. Viktor smiled as Greg inhaled slowly and deeply. 

"Bloody hell, do you smell good," Greg gave a sigh. Viktor reached down and pulled Greg up even as he pulled his lover's shirt off over his head. 

"Want you naked too," Viktor unbuttoned and unzipped Greg's shorts. 

"Did you get us out some boxers?" Greg looked over the bed. 

"No boxer. Want be naked with you," Viktor informed. 

"What if she wakes up? She'll come in here just the same as she comes into our room at home," Greg pointed out. 

"Make handy maybe," Viktor conceded. He took hold of the half hard British spike as his lover's shorts fell to the floor. 

"Mmm. I'll just get them out then. Lay down on the bed, my big, sexy Gunner," Greg gave Viktor a soft kiss on his lips. He then turned to the suitcase and extracted their sleepwear. Greg placed them on the small bedside table while Viktor moved the luggage to the floor. 

"Your big, sexy Gunner do whatever you say," Viktor pulled the bed down. He climbed onto it and laid down on his back. 

"That's what I like to hear. Put your arms up behind your head," Greg instructed. Viktor quickly obeyed. 

"Spread your legs wider," Greg continued and Viktor did so. The sight of Viktor Krum stretched out naked, with his arms up behind his head and his legs spread wide, with his half hard cock laying over his hip and big, heavy shaved nuts on full display, drove Greg almost instantly to full erection. 

"You like?" Viktor smiled. The look on Greg's face and his obvious arousal made the answer more than clear. 

"Viktor Krum, you make my mouth water," Greg climbed onto the bed between Viktor's legs. The Gunner's bone grew further even before his lover's tongue made contact with his smooth sac. 

"Hmm," Viktor closed his eyes as Greg's lips and tongue caressed his loose, shaved scrotum. 

"You not only smell good," Greg gave a broad lap over Viktor's right nut. "You taste good too," he did the same to the left. Greg lifted his head to look up at his lover's face. "I want to suck your cock so badly right now." 

Viktor looked down on Greg with a smirk. He took hold of himself at the base and held his hard organ up in front of Greg's face, "Then suck." 

"Dare we? Everyone can hear us," Greg pointed out.

"Then just lick a bit," Viktor urged. 

"Oh, you want me to lick," Greg moved forward and ran his tongue up the tall phallus along Viktor's sensitive cum tube. 

"Mmm," Viktor felt as much as saw the warm, sensual tongue move up his prick. 

"This beautiful cock?" Greg finished his sentence before he repeated his action. 

"Da, like that," Viktor encouraged. 

"I like it too," Greg agreed. Viktor closed his eyes as Greg's lips and tongue moved up and down his pole. Greg's own dick throbbed as he drew his wet lips up to Viktor's moist eye and all the way down the long shaft onto his lover's swollen eggs. 

"Hah," Viktor let out his moan softly. 

"Let go," Greg took hold of Viktor's wrist and pulled his hand away. "Put your hands behind your head," he instructed. Viktor smiled as he complied. 

"You are so bloody sexy," Greg endorsed as he moved from between his lover's legs. 

"Am I most sexy footballer?" Viktor asked with a wide grin. 

"Oh, are there others?" Greg settled on Viktor's right side and leaned over him. He fastened his lips to Viktor's cum tube and took up roving his lips and tongue up and down his footballer's engorged cock. 

"Ugh. Grigor, is so nice," Viktor closed his eyes as the sensual mouth moved in one continuous wet kiss up and down the sensitive side of his shaft. Every few passes Greg would descend further and take a swipe with his tongue over Viktor's smooth orbs. The serpent's eye began to drool rich, clear syrup onto the furry Bulgarian abdomen and just as soon as Greg noticed it, he made a point to include a quick slurp on his lover's head on every third pass or so. 

"Feel so good," Viktor spoke with a heavy sigh. "Are you make me come?" 

"Don't know," Greg left off at the snake's wet head. "Haven't thought about it," he ran his mouth down along the quivering bone to his lover's heavy stones. "I just want to do this for a while yet," Greg drew his tongue back up to Viktor's seeping head. Greg closed his mouth over just the head of his lover's joint to slurp up his precum. 

"I wish you suck," Viktor urged. 

"No," Greg said simply as he ran his lips and tongue back down Viktor's cum tube to his nuts and back up again. Viktor reached down and took hold of his dick with his left hand and the back of Greg's head with his right. 

"Hold in mouth," Viktor commanded. "I wank for you." 

"Hang on a minute," Greg moved his head back. "My big, sexy Gunner told me he would do whatever I say, right?"

"Da," Viktor admitted when it became clear that Greg was waiting for an answer. 

"Put your hands behind your head," Greg instructed again. 

"Da," Viktor agreed and did so. 

"Better. Now, where was I?" Greg ran his tongue across Viktor's balls and up his cum tube to his drooling slit. 

"Huh," Viktor gave a soft moan as his lover's lips and tongue roved up and down his shaft. Greg moved a hand across Viktor's broad chest to his left pec. He massaged the strong muscle for a moment. Greg brought his hand to his mouth to coat his thumb and forefinger with his spit, then reached back across Viktor's chest to take hold of his lover's left nipple. He teased the nipple with his slick fingers while he made love to his partner's now throbbing cock. 

"Ugh," Viktor moaned a little louder. The skilled lips and tongue maintained a tormenting wet massage of his penis that drove him, albeit very slowly, ever closer to orgasm, while the slick fingers tortured his left nipple. "I want come, Grigor." 

"Maybe," Greg ran his tongue through Viktor's weeping slit and took back up roving his mouth up and down the sensitive side of his lover's cock. It took every ounce of will power Greg could muster not to suck his lover's dick. He wanted Viktor's cum and to drive him to a powerful orgasm like nothing else, but at the same time he relished the feeling of power it gave him to master this Gunner's strong body and Greg wanted it to last as long as possible. Viktor, almost imperceptibly at first, began to writhe beneath Greg's ministrations. 

"Slunchitze, you kill me," Viktor worked hard to be quiet as his lover tortured him. "Make me come." 

"Maybe," Greg spoke with his lips still against Viktor's shaft. 

"Maybe go faster," Viktor urged. 

"No," Greg's tongue ran up his Viktor's sensitive cum tube. He knew he was pushing his lover ever closer to the edge by the way Viktor's big testicles pulled up to the base of the throbbing prick. Greg happily ran his tongue over them and back up the slick bone to the now profusely leaking head. 

"Ugh, Grigor, I die now," Viktor pleaded. All the muscles in the strong man's entire body tensed up like a great coil set to spring. Greg felt Viktor's body begin to tremble as his cock throbbed even harder. Greg pinched Viktor's hard nipple even as he heard Viktor's breath catch in his throat. He knew he had pushed his lover right to the edge and not once touched him with his hand or taken him in his mouth. Greg focused the attention of his wet lips on Viktor's frenulum and first few inches of his lover's quivering cock. 

"Hoh, oh!" Viktor choked out. Greg felt the strong cum tube expand beneath his lips. At first the clear precum readily flowing onto Viktor's abdomen just turned white. Then as Viktor's internal convulsions kicked in his semen began to squirt out onto him. Greg continued to move his loving lips on Viktor's pulsing cock as his lover's load spilled onto his stomach and abdomen. He let go of Viktor's nipple and switched hands to cup and gently massage the big nuts. 

"Huh. Grigor," Viktor at last brought his hand from behind his head to place it on his partner's shoulder. His jizz no longer shot out onto him, but continued to flow as Greg continued to minister to his still rock hard penis. 

"There now," Greg gave a last lap along Viktor's cum tube. "Did that feel good?" 

"You kill me," Viktor panted. 

"Well, if you have to die," Greg smiled. "I'm glad it could be with your beautiful cock in my mouth," he lifted Viktor's yet hard bone from where it lay in a pool of milky essence on Viktor's furry abdomen and took it finally in his mouth. The scent of Viktor's spunk was strong in the air of the small room. 

"Ugh!" Viktor closed his eyes and moaned much too loudly as his lover at long last began to gently suck him. This only made Greg stop, or at least he tried to. Viktor felt Greg pull his mouth up and pushed his head back down with a strong hand. He pushed Greg down on his still hard crank until it lodged in Greg's throat and he held him there. 

"Oh, Grigor," Viktor spoke to the man he held impaled on his cock. Greg didn't mind one bit. He had been fighting the urge to take Viktor down his throat the entire time. Viktor at last relaxed his grip and Greg slowly drew his mouth up and off of the big joint. Greg took a needed deep breath. 

"And I thought you smelled good before," Greg gave a lap through the accumulated juice on Viktor's abdomen. "Mmm," Greg licked his lips. "I rather prefer to drink it straight from the source, but this'll do," he set about licking Viktor's jizz from his skin and fur. Viktor closed his eyes again and just relaxed in the afterglow of his orgasm and the bathing of his body with his lover's sensual tongue. 

"You very bad man, Grigor Goyle," Viktor leaned up on his elbows. 

"Am I?" Greg smiled up at Viktor. 

"I teach you lesson," Viktor sat up further and used his strength to his advantage as he grabbed his lover and flipped him over onto the mattress on his back. 

"Oh!" Greg was surprised by the sudden move. Viktor straddled Greg's lap and sat on the fat, hard bone. He gave a smirk as he felt it flex against his perineum. The Gunner felt the wetness at the tip of his lover's thick cock on the back of his balls and he liked it. Viktor leaned down and took Greg's sticky lips and cummy mouth with his own. Greg closed his eyes and moaned lightly into Viktor's mouth as the stronger man's tongue probed deeply in his mouth. The Bulgarian snake, spent and reduced though it was to half mast, gave a twitch at this. It turned Viktor on no end when Greg responded this way to his forceful kiss, not to mention the taste of him. 

"I like taste my cum in your mouth," Viktor spoke softly against Greg's face. 

"Is that the lesson you wanted to teach me?" Greg asked. 

"No," Viktor moved down Greg's body and took hold of the fat post. "This," he took the British spike in his mouth down to Greg's trimmed pubes. 

"Huh!" Greg was not prepared for the exquisite embrace of his lover's mouth around his drooling penis. "Ugh," Greg let his eyes roll back in his head as Viktor's tongue began to move against his cum tube. Viktor could not breathe with every thick inch of Greg reaching to the back of his throat, but he didn't care. There was only one thing he loved more than holding his lover's hard joint encased in his mouth, stretching his jaw, and he knew without doubt that they would both make far too much noise for that. Viktor slowly drew his mouth up Greg's shaft and held the hard spike. 

"This most perfect cock in whole world," Viktor gave a slow lick through Greg's wet slit. 

"I'm most pleased you like it," Greg smiled. 

"Is exactly right for me. Fill my mouth just right," Viktor gave his lover a grin. 

"Are we entirely certain? Maybe you should try again, just to be sure?" Greg suggested. 

"Da. I try again," Viktor agreed and went down on Greg again. 

"Hoh," Greg let out a slow, deep sigh. With every inch of his lover's thick meat in his mouth, the talented Gunner even managed to stick his tongue out to lick at Greg's balls a little. 

"That feels so good, Vik," Greg put a hand to his lover's head to run the tips of his fingers through Viktor's short hair. Greg relaxed into the incredible feeling of his hard cock held in his partner's loving mouth, but tensed involuntarily when Viktor began to suck him. 

"Oh my God," Greg looked down to watch as Viktor's head bobbed on his pole. Viktor sucked his lover's dick with abandon and applied every ounce of skill he could muster. 

"Vik, I won't be able to be quiet," Greg urged. "Vik," Greg tried again. His pleas fell on deaf ears. Greg tried to force the muscles of his body to relax, but the mouth that rode his cock, the tongue in constant motion against his cum tube, and the lips that clutched to his shaft had just the opposite effect. Viktor tasted the precum that seeped into his mouth and that drove him ever onward. 

"Vik," Greg began to tremble. He would not be able to last long while Viktor sucked him like this and they both knew it. Greg's nuts pulled up to the base of his pole and Viktor tugged them back down. The pull on his scrotum only served to push Greg closer to the edge. Viktor alternated by sucking on just the first few inches of his lover's thick organ. He paid special attention to Greg's frenulum. 

"Ugh," Greg trembled as the maestro played his body like a finely tuned instrument. Viktor's tongue remained in constant motion in exactly the right place. The Gunner then took every inch of Greg's cock in his mouth and gave tight, deep, siphoning sucks. 

"Huh!" Greg cried much too loudly. It did not surprise him when Viktor shoved a pillow into his face. Greg did not attempt to resist as his lover smothered him. They both knew it was the only way to keep from including the whole house in their love making. Viktor held Greg's testicles in his other hand. There was no way to keep them from crowding the base of the thick spike as Greg was propelled toward orgasm. Viktor felt his lover's body tense up. He could feel and taste the thick precum as it issued ever more freely onto his tongue. 

"Nnn!" Greg started to make the almost whine he made, that was such music to Viktor's ears, when he came, even muffled as it was by the pillow. And Viktor stopped. He moved his hand slightly to take hold of the fat crank by the base and pulled his mouth off the throbbing organ. He let go of the pillow, but left it over Greg's face. Viktor just gazed down on the body he so admired of the man he loved so much as Greg shivered in near orgasmic bliss. After a moment Greg moved the pillow away to look up at his grinning lover's face. 

"Now that, Viktor Krum, was truly evil," Greg stated.

"Oh, does my slunchitze want come?" Viktor moved his hand up and began to stroke Greg. The prone Brit immediately tensed up again. Greg sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. He was still very close. 

"Yes," Greg answered. 

"Does my slunchitze want come in my mouth?" Viktor increased the pace of his masturbation of his lover's drooling bone. 

"I do," Greg confirmed. Viktor gave a smirk and moved his hand away as he took Greg back in his mouth. Greg's eyes went wide and he pulled the pillow back over his own face, lest he involve three generations of Krums in his orgasm. 

"Ugh," Greg moaned into his pillow. Viktor massaged his lover's shaft with his lips as his mouth rode up and down Greg's throbbing organ. He ran both hands up Greg's smooth body to his chest and took hold of both of the prone man's nipples as he resumed his deep siphoning suck. 

"Nnn!" Greg pulled the pillow to his face tighter. Viktor knew he had his lover right at the edge by the way his entire body shuddered. He was not about to stop this time. The last time his lover had come in his mouth was before he left for training camp. That was much too long and Viktor would change that right now. He heard the muffled cry that he loved to force Greg to make even as the thick monster in his mouth swelled even further. Viktor took Greg to the back of his throat and pressed his nose into the trimmed pubes as Greg blew out. He loved to drink from Greg this way, choking on the thick British load. Viktor thrilled as semen flooded his mouth. He would have been happy to drown in Greg's cum. 

"Yeeh!" Greg cried into his pillow. He fought to hold his body still as his seed gushed into Viktor's mouth. Viktor gulped down Greg's juice and his mouth filled up again. He gently caressed Greg's cum tube with his tongue as the nectar Viktor so craved poured into his mouth. At this moment, such was his craving that Viktor could not imagine how he did not rip Greg's clothes off of him and suck him dry, right there in the stands, right when Greg arrived and before the game was even finished, back in Bad Waltersdorf. 

"Ugh," Greg moved the pillow away as he panted. His cream no longer shot, but continued to ooze into Viktor's mouth. Viktor did not need his hand to milk Greg of all he had to give. The Gunner settled on his chest between Greg's legs as he continued to nurse on the British bone he so loved. Greg held his eyes closed and just relaxed as his lover suckled gently on his spent, but still hard cock. Viktor caressed Greg's meat with his tongue inside his cummy mouth. Greg summoned the strength and wit to put a hand to Viktor's head. He ran the tips of his fingers through his Gunner's short, dark hair as Viktor nursed on his penis. Greg knew that Viktor liked to suck him soft. Only when Greg was reduced to half mast did Viktor finally relinquish the still impressively thick organ from his mouth. Greg smiled as he felt his lover lay his head down on him. Viktor's lips pressed against the base of his lover's joint. The Gunner took a deep and satisfying breath through his nose.

"I not know how I wait to do that," Viktor confessed as he gently rubbed Greg's hip with his thumb. 

"What? Drink my cum?" Greg hit the proverbial nail on the head. "Why do you think I did that the very night we joined you?" 

"When I get your cock in my mouth just now I want never let it go," Viktor continued. "You taste so good, Slunchitze," he raised his head and planted a kiss on the now mostly asleep serpent's neck. Viktor then moved up to lay beside his lover. 

"Shall we put on our boxers?" Greg gestured to where he had placed them on the small bedside table. 

"Ne," Viktor snuggled up to Greg. "Want lay naked with you and hold all night," he laid his head on Greg's shoulder as he pulled the sheet and thin blanket up over them to their waists. 

"That does sound lovely," Greg sighed. Viktor lifted his head and put his hand to Greg's face as he brought their lips together. Greg closed his eyes as his partner kissed him ever so gently. Viktor reached his tongue out and just dipped it in Greg's mouth. 

"Mmm," Greg liked that and was able to get a small taste of himself. 

"I go to sleep so happy with taste of you in mouth," Viktor laid his head back down. He pulled Greg even tighter to him. "I so happy you here with me. Both of you," Viktor confessed. Greg reached to turn off the bedside lamp. 

"There is no place we would ever rather be, Vik," Greg kissed his lover on the forehead. 

"Tay obicham, Grigor Goyle," Viktor spoke softly. 

"Tay obicham, Viktor Krum," Greg echoed. Both men closed their eyes and were soon in a deep sated sleep. 

The time change finally caught up with them when it was not the light through the curtains that woke them, but the pound on their bedroom door. 

"Get up!" came Kliment's unmistakable voice. 

"Surely it's not time already?" Greg complained. Viktor only gave a moan. He was now in Greg's arms with his Brit spooned up behind him. Greg tightened his arms around Viktor and pressed his morning erection into his lover's ass. Viktor opened his eyes and gave a gasp. 

"That feel so good," Viktor stated. 

"I know," Greg moulded himself to Viktor's back. 

"Want you take me very bad," Viktor added. 

"I want that too, Vik," Greg kissed his lover's strong back. 

"We no go church. Let others go, so we be home alone. You make love to me like I want," Viktor laid out his plan. 

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Greg continued to kiss along a shoulder blade. "I'm all for it. What do you suppose your mother will say?" 

"She no like it," Viktor gave a sigh. 

"If only I could slip inside you right now," Greg flexed his cock where it was so happily nestled between Viktor's hard, round glutes. Viktor moaned again. Greg gave a frustrated sigh and rolled over onto his back. "I know we can't eat before church, but is a coffee permitted? And I want Lene to have a glass of juice at least." 

"Da, is okay for you," Viktor shifted around in the bed to face his partner and put a hand on Greg's chest. Greg took Viktor's hand and entwined their fingers when the cross above the window caught his eye. 

"Oh, I forgot about all the crosses in the house," Greg observed. "They're over every door and window." 

"Keep out upior," Viktor said with all seriousness. 

"Upior is vampire, right?" Greg clarified. 

"Da, your word vampire," Viktor confirmed. 

"You don't really believe that," Greg surmised. 

"Is easy not believe in England. You no have them there. Here they everywhere," Viktor stated. 

"Oh, they are, are they?" Greg was skeptical. 

"This where they come from," Viktor explained. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "How you know I not upior? Upior come in night," Viktor climbed atop Greg and straddled him. "Into your bed," he wrapped his hands around Greg's neck, "and strangle." Viktor pressed his thumbs down gently on Greg's adam's apple. "Then suck." 

"Well, I much appreciate you forgoing the strangling part before you sucked me dry last night," Greg smiled up at his partner. 

"Smart upior know if he let victim live, he can suck again," Viktor leaned down and gave his lover a soft kiss on his lips. 

"One tiny point, Upior, just a technicality really, but don't your kind usually drink blood?" Greg teased.

"Da," Viktor conceded, "but my type upior like drink cum." 

"Oh, I see," Greg nodded. "Well, happy to supply as much as you need, anytime you need it." 

"I need every day," Viktor gave a solemn nod. 

"I best not think about the fact that you were gone nearly a month, then," Greg pointed out. 

"Oh!" Viktor had not thought of the big hole in his story. "I fast." 

"That or I best have a chat with Andrey," Greg smiled. The door to their room swung open at that moment and, once again clad only in boxers, Kliment appeared. 

"Hey, you, get up," Kliment stopped short when he caught sight of the two naked men. Greg lay spread eagle on his back on the bed. Viktor straddled Greg with his hands wrapped around the prone man's neck. 

Kliment's eyes went wide. "What you doing?!" 

Viktor and Greg both burst out laughing. 

They were on their way to church when Kliment asked again. The men all wore dark suits with proper white dress shirts and dark, sombre ties. Vladimira wore a dark blue dress, while their mother wore black with a matching lace headscarf. Iskra walked arm in arm with her little friend from across the street, who was dressed the same as she was also a widow. Both older ladies carried a bag full of grapes for the priest to bless. A matter of critical importance on this day. Petar and Vladimira walked with Radka and Helena between them, all hand in hand behind the older ladies. Viktor, Greg and Kliment followed behind. Both little girls were exceptionally cute in their cheerful dresses, which only little girls could get away with. Even little boys were expected to be dressed in dark colors like the men. The family walked down the middle of the uneven street in the heart of the old city. There was little traffic today. Only tourists were not even now on their way to one of the many churches in the city. Mother Krum counted herself fortunate to live within walking distance, only eight blocks, from the cathedral, and would never consider going anyplace else. No doubt His Eminence Kyrill, Metropolitan Archbishop of the Eparchy of Varna and Veliki Preslav, would conduct the Divine liturgy himself on such an important day. 

"What you doing when I come get you?" Kliment asked with furrowed brow when they trailed far enough behind the others to not be overheard. 

"Greg like me choke him out when we fuck," Viktor spun a line. 

"Vik, don't tell your brother such things," Greg chastised. "That's not true at all. And we weren't fucking. Vik was explaining to me about the upior." 

"Ah," Kliment immediately understood. "Upior no come our house in night. We extra careful," he assured. It was clear he very much believed in such things. He looked to his brother, "You drink his blood too?" 

"Not blood," Viktor gave a shrug with his almost answer. 

"Oh!" Kliment got it and shoved his brother hard enough that Viktor nearly stumbled. The older brother only laughed as Greg grabbed his arm to steady him. 

The Krum/Stoyanov/Goyle family emerged onto the square on Bul Vladislav Varnenchik and the great and magnificent Metropolitan Cathedral with it's many gold domes stood before them. Built over many years, it was completed this very month in 1886, to commemorate the death of Her Imperial Majesty, the Czarina Maria Alexanrovna, whose husband had been responsible for liberating Bulgaria from five hundred years of Ottoman occupation. 

"I am always impressed with how beautiful this cathedral is," Greg commented. "What is it's name again?"

"Katedralen Hram Uspenie Presvyatiya Bogoroditzi," Kliment informed. 

"Well, that's easy for you to say, mate," Greg shook his head. 

"I no how say in Angliysky," Kliment confessed. 

"Metropolitan Cathedral of Assumption of Mary," Viktor gave the translation. 

"You knew those words in English?" Greg asked. 

"I look up last time," Viktor confessed. "You know we oldest Slavic church in world," he bragged. 

"I'm quite sure I remember you mentioning that a time or two," Greg stated. "Predates the Turks, does it?"

"Da, way before Turk," Viktor confirmed. He put his arms around his partner and his brother as they followed the rest of their family and joined what seemed to be the whole of Varna heading into the cathedral.


	10. Preobrazhenie

Chapter 10: Preobrazhenie

Viktor and Petar lifted their daughters so that they too could kiss one of the icons within the narthex of the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption of Mary in the center of the old city of Varna. After they had all kissed one of the icons, as every parishioner did, they passed through the open doors into the nave. Greg was struck again with the incredible beauty of the place. The polished marble floor was flawless. The great high walls and ceiling were covered in light blue and gold frescoes that at once dazzled the eye and were somehow soothing. The family followed Petar's lead and they found seats together closer to the entrance than the altar. Greg was glad of it. He knew the service would be entirely too long for the two little ones to sit still all the way through it. Iskra sat beside her widow neighbor and in order on her other side sat Vladimira, Radka, Petar, Viktor, Helena, Greg and finally Kliment had the end on the aisle. It was another twenty minutes before anything happened, during which both little girls already expressed their boredom to their parents. 

A grand Crucession signaled the start of the service. Two altar boys in simple gowns swung smoke billowing thuribles, followed by a third who carried a great, tall Eastern cross with a longer cross piece beneath a shorter one and a thrid beneath them that was on an angle. At the sides of this cross bearer were two more who carried beautiful and elaborately hand embroidered banners with long tails adorned in gold fringe and tassels, that depicted Christ and Mary. Behind them came two more who carried icons of the same. Finally came the black bearded clergy, with each priest in a black cassock beneath a colorful phelonion. Each had a tall, flat topped black kamilavka on his head. The last two were bishops with a klobuk on their heads, rather than a kamilavka, obvious by a long black veil that hung from the top of the hat in back that covered their shoulders. The two bishops also had an ornate gold engolpion that hung from round their necks on a thick gold chain. Last came the Metropolitan Archbishop himself resplendent in a sakkos and omophorion of white and gold orphrey. On his head was a magnificent bejeweled bulbous mitre with a gold cross on the very top. No bishop in Greg's Anglican experience, indeed the Archbishop of Canterbury himself had not such fine vestments. The white bearded man walked with a tall crosier in his right hand. This procession made it's way slowly and with great dignity to what was most foreign to Greg, the iconostasis. This screen of tall icons blocked the view of the people from the altar. Deacons Doors on the ends of the iconostasis were opened for the lesser ranking clergy to reach the altar. The grand Royal Doors in the center were opened for the bishops and His Eminence. 

The Divine liturgy began at last. Greg and Helena, of course, could not understand a word of it. Greg liked listening to the cantor intone his almost melodic responses to His Eminence. He did not remember having to get up and sit back down quite so many times on previous visits. The first time the congregation took to their feet to sing a hymn, Kliment handed Greg a hymnal. 

"What is this for?" Greg asked his kind brother-in-law. 

"I know you no understand," Kliment flipped to the right page. "So you can follow." 

"Kliment, you use the Cyrillic alphabet," Greg pointed out to the well intentioned younger man. "I can't read it to follow along." 

"Oh," Kliment laughed at himself. Several hymns later the ever more fidgety five year olds threatened to get whiny. Vladimira rose and took Radka by the hand to lead her out of the church. Viktor and Greg shared an understanding nod. Greg took Helena by the hand and they followed after her aunt and cousin. 

Outside, Greg in particular found he was overdressed for the warm summer day. They were grateful for what little shade the great cathedral offered them in the near noonday sun. Greg and Vladimira where not the only parents outside the enormous church with their kids, but they were the only ones speaking English. 

"Is very nice you and Helena come to church with us," Vladimira spoke as she strolled beside the Brit. They trailed after their girls who skipped and jumped ahead with each other, such was their energy. 

"It's a special day and I know how important it is to your mum. I think it's important to Viktor too, though he'd never admit it," Greg smiled. 

"We have our tradition here and they very old," Vladimira nodded. "I mean is especially understanding for you come to church not so understanding of you. We not all so," she searched for the English word she wanted, "enlightened about gay people here." Vladimira smiled and rubbed Greg's arm. 

"Every society advances at it's own pace, I suppose," Greg mused. "I don't mind, really. I don't come to church for everyone else. I come to church for Viktor, and for you." 

"You good man, Grigor. I remember when Viktor get pick by Arsenal. He work hard for long time. He so excited. He very scared too," Vladimira revealed. "He afraid be so far from home by self. Afraid be all alone your country. He not know Angliysky very well." 

"I do remember him telling me that," Greg smiled to himself at the memory. 

"I remember day he meet you. He call me," Vladimira continued. "He so excited. Viktor and I always close. We much closer than Kliment. I love little brother, but Viktor and me closer in age. Viktor say he meet most wonderful man. He say you so handsome and smart and you agree have dinner with him."

"Vik thinks I'm handsome," Greg shook his head at the absurdity of such a compliment from such a magnificent specimen of male beauty as Viktor Krum. 

"He think you gift of God, Grigor," Vladimira informed. "Viktor say to me many time, meet you and get Helena, best things in whole life."

"Viktor and Helena are the two best things that ever happened to me too," Greg admitted. "In that order. And I'm so glad he's close with his family. You're just delightful people, all of you."

"We you family too," Vladimira put her arm around Greg's waist. 

"Indeed you are," Greg in turn put his arm around her shoulders. "And I'm also glad Lene can be a part of a big family like this." 

"Our family not so big. You family small?" Vladimira asked. 

"I'm an only child, actually. On my side I only have my parents and grandfather," Greg laughed to himself as the thoughts came. "My grandfather does the evening cocktails in the lounge of my parents' inn, in Scarborough. He particularly enjoys when gay couples stay and chats them up relentlessly. He will tell anyone who will listen to him about his grandson, the television producer, and his grandson's husband, the professional footballer, and of course, his darling little great granddaughter. He even pulls out pictures of us that he keeps at the bar." 

"You and Viktor married?" Vladimira latched onto one particular word in Greg's story. 

"We have Civil Partnership in the UK. We don’t get to use the word marriage, but otherwise it’s exactly the same. The Anglican Church won’t have anything to do with us, of course, but it’s the government that gives us our rights," Greg informed. 

"I see. Is good for you," Vladimira nodded with certainty. 

“I might mention,” Greg chuckled to himself, "on the flight here we discussed our plans for when Lene makes us grandfathers." 

"I not ready to think about be baba," Vladimira shook her head. "Petar and I think we ready to have another child. Already we try. No tell maika. We want to say when we know we pregnant." 

"It's our secret," Greg smiled at the striking woman under his arm. Another man passed them at that moment coming from the other way, with a young boy by the hand. The man communicated with Greg in a way that transcended language. The smile and nod the other man gave Greg made it clear that he considered Greg to be a lucky man to be with such a beautiful woman. The gay man just smiled to himself. 

"You think you and Viktor have more?" Vladimira asked. She had noticed, but did not care about the other man's appreciation of her. There were many times when she had to reject unwanted advances from men. Of course, that never happened when she was on the arm of her husband, who was fashion model hot himself. Petar was not with her now and if being in the company of her gay brother-in-law kept unwanted advances at bay, that was just fine with her. 

"More children? I don't suppose we've really thought about it," Greg stated. "The circumstances of how we got Lene were so unique. We could always go the traditional route of adopting. Lene's biological mother, who is a dear friend and is a part of her life, has offered to carry a baby for one or even both of us if we wanted. I shall have to ask Vik when we get a moment. I could do with a few hours alone with him, though, mind you, not for talking, if I may be so bold."

Vladimira gave a mirthful laugh. "We all adult. I will help. I make happen. I no think happen today though." 

"Well, my dear, the sooner the better, but I would very much appreciate any help you could provide on that score," Greg smiled down at her. 

"We figure out. Now I think we get back inside. Radka, Helena, come," Vladimira called. 

"Come along, girls," Greg lent his voice to rounding up the children. It would be time for communion soon and if Vladimira and Radka missed that, Iskra would be distressed. 

Greg and Helena remained in the pew when the rest of the family went up to the priests for their bread and wine. Helena tucked herself under her British father's arm. Greg held his daughter to him snugly. He knew it made her sad that she could not go with her Bulgarian father for communion in this church. The act of partaking of communion meant nothing to her. It was that she, and her other father, were not allowed to be with him. Greg figured the reason for that was probably beyond a young child and had simply told her that here, just like in the Bulgarian Orthodox church they occasionally visited in London, only people born in Bulgaria were allowed. Helena had accepted that answer, but she did not like it. 

On the walk home from the cathedral ties were loosened and shirts unbuttoned. Iskra made every one of them eat the grapes that had been sanctified by the blessing of the Metropolitan Archbishop himself. In another merger of the holy and profane, Bulgarians believed that this first fruit of autumn, grapes blessed and consumed on this day, would ensure health and fertility for the coming year. And further, now that they had tasted of God's sanctified fruit, they could all consume blackberries without fear, which were delicious, but of the Devil. 

Kliment had his keys ready and admitted everyone into the house. 

"Everyone is hungry, right?" Greg took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. "We'll have a proper English breakfast in just a tick," he rolled up his dress shirt sleeves. 

"You no cook," Iskra tried to shoo Greg away. She was no more successful this time than the last time her eldest brought his family home. 

"You, Maika, are to put your feet up. Viktor and I shall make breakfast. Off you go," Greg took charge. 

"I make coffee," Iskra countered. 

"Alright then, make us all some coffee," Greg agreed. Viktor, who was also now in rolled up sleeves, set about putting the needed pans on the stovetop and fetching ingredients from the fridge. 

"You two cooking?" Kliment asked with a bemused smile from the kitchen doorway as he continued to pop grapes into his mouth. Greg didn't get it, until his mother-in-law spoke. 

"No have men in kitchen," Iskra observed. 

"Still no," Kliment gave a big teasing grin. Viktor set down his knife beside the mushrooms on his chopping board, and moved toward his little brother. Kliment shot out of the doorway in flight. 

"Let him go, Vik. He's just being cute," Greg poured oil into a pan. 

"You thank Grigor," Viktor called after his laughing brother. "He only reason I not wipe floor with you!" Viktor returned to his chopping task and paid no attention to his mother who wapped him on his arm. 

"I cute," Kliment popped his head back in the kitchen. 

"You be very cute when I take you outside. I no care church clothes," Viktor threatened. 

"Nyama!" Iskra commanded. "Always fighting," she shook her head. "You, go!" Iskra shooed her youngest child out of the kitchen. Greg just chuckled to himself. 

As they did at home when they made this meal, Viktor assisted while Greg did most of the cooking. Iskra hovered around them washing every little thing as it was used. This home, like their flat in London, had no formal dinning room. Just like in their home the family gathered around the big table in the spacious kitchen. This meal was more prep than cooking and soon they all sat down to fried eggs, pork sausages, thick bacon, sauteed mushrooms, baked beans, grilled tomatoes and toast with marmalade and fresh jam, that Iskra had made herself. 

"I like Angliysky zakuska," Petar announced from the head of the table. "We make Preobrazhenie tradition." 

"Da," Kliment agreed with a hearty nod while he chewed. "You always come," he pointed at his brother and brother-in-law and their child. 

"I no promise, but we try," Viktor agreed. 

"This might be a rather nice tradition to start," Greg shared. "Every year Lene and I will pick you up in Austria at the end of your camp, and then we'll come here for Perobazyshy," he gave the pronunciation of the Bulgarian word a try. Everyone at the table chuckled. 

"Preobrazhenie," Viktor smiled and took his lover's hand. 

"Isn't that what I said?" Greg played dumb. 

"Da, that exactly what you say," Viktor patted his partner on the back. 

After breakfast Iskra insisted on cleaning up what remained as every pot and pan had already been washed and put away. Everyone was ready to change into more comfortable clothes. The four men headed upstairs together. Petar carried the small bag his wife had packed for them. He followed Kliment toward his room. 

"Petar, you no have to go with Kliment. You change with us," Viktor teased. He could not keep the grin from his face. 

"Oh, ne," Petar shook his head with a smile. He knew Viktor was teasing. "I change with Kliment." 

"Is good Petar. You change with them, I have explain Vladimira why you take hour," Kliment added as he took hold of his older brother-in-law's arm and pulled him into his room. Viktor snickered as he followed Greg into their room and closed the door. 

"Would your sister like you teasing her husband?" Greg asked as he started to unbutton his dress shirt. 

"I tease him for years," Viktor dismissed. He stepped up to Greg and took over the task of unbuttoning the Brit's shirt. Once done, Viktor spread the shirt open slowly as he pulled the tail out of Greg's pants. Greg gave a sigh as his lover leaned closer to kiss his neck and Viktor's hands moved over his chest. Viktor pushed the shirt off of Greg's shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Greg felt his lover's strong arms encircle him as Viktor took him in a tight hug. 

"Thank you be so good with crazy family," Viktor spoke softly into Greg's ear. 

"Hardly," Greg countered. "They're not crazy at all. They're great fun and I love them," he rubbed his partner's muscular back. 

"Vladimira say you two have nice talk when take little ones outside, but she no say what you talk about," Viktor informed. 

"We did at that," Greg agreed. 

"What you talk about? Why she no say?" Viktor asked. 

"We talked about what big dicks our husbands have," Greg could not resist. 

Viktor moved back to look into his lover's face with alarm. "You not talk about my dick with Vladimira!" 

"Turn about is fair play. I know you've talked about mine," Greg kept up. 

"That different. Yours not related to her," Viktor pointed out. "You not talk about that," he realized that Greg was teasing him. 

"No, we didn't. We just had a little chat," Greg smiled. 

"Next time I pull out mobile and show her," Viktor threatened as he finally released Greg. He started to unbutton his own shirt. 

"Excuse me, Sir, that's my job," Greg moved Viktor's hands away and took over the task of ridding the Gunner of his shirt. He opened Viktor's shirt, pulled it out of his pants and off the broad shoulders. Greg reached for Viktor's belt as he bent to run his tongue across his footballer's right nipple. 

"Mmm. That nice, Slunchitze," Viktor ran his hand down the back of Greg's head. "Lots other place for tongue too." 

"Sweet," Greg stood up, "if I put my tongue in all the places that I want to right now, we will be up her for an hour and no one will wonder why." 

"We change quick then," Viktor unfastened his belt and pants, unzipped and pushed down his pants and underwear together. "I think shorts I want over here," he laid down across the end of the bed, with his pants and underwear about his ankles, and dug into his duffel bag. Greg took in the sight his lover very deliberately presented him. The Brit's dress pants tented obscenely as he quickly grew to full erection. 

"Viktor Krum, you could tempt a bloody saint," Greg fell to his knees and ran his hands over the twin, hard globes of his partner's mouth watering ass. He spread Viktor's cheeks apart. "This is exactly where my tongue would like to start. Or rather finish," Greg leaned forward and ran his tongue through his lover's crack. 

"Huh!" Viktor felt his lover's warm, wet, silken tongue wash over his hole and was acutely aware of how long it had been. 

"Vik!" Greg was alarmed that he had made Viktor cry out so loudly. This was exactly why they needed to be home alone. Viktor twisted around, grabbed Greg about his torso and threw him onto the bed. He straddled his partner with his own pants and underwear still about his ankles. 

"I need you fuck me so bad, I crazy!" Viktor ran his hands over Greg's chest and massaged his pecs. 

"I'm crazy for it too, Vik. Just one taste of your perfect arse has me ready to blow my load!" Greg enthused. Viktor reached between his legs to grip his lover's thick hardness through his pants. 

And then came the pound on the door. "Hey, what you do in there?" came Kliment's voice. Viktor hung his head in exasperation. He leaned down to rest his forearms and the top of his head on Greg's chest. 

"I kill him," Viktor sighed. 

"It's alright, Sweet," Greg ran his hands up his lover's strong arms. "We can't really do anything now, much as we might like to. It would take much too long and they're waiting for us." 

"Da," Viktor conceded reluctantly. He jumped off of Greg and the bed, his half hard snake swinging heavily. 

Greg leaned up on his elbows and shook his head. "I could spend an hour alone just licking that arse. I shall have the horn for it all day." 

"Promise you brush it against me every chance," Viktor smiled. 

"That I will," Greg rose from the bed as Viktor finally freed himself of his dress shoes, socks, pants and underwear. Soon they were in tee shirts, shorts and sandals like the others. 

"You two so fast!" Kliment said as they came down the stairs. "I thought be long time." 

"My whole body ache to pound you," Viktor told his little brother. 

"Pound with Grigor," Kliment thought he was very funny. 

"Not that kind pound. Pound with fist," Viktor held one up. 

"Okay, boys," Vladimira came out of the kitchen still in her dark blue dress. "Where bag?"

"Kliment room," Petar slipped an arm around his wife. 

"I get kids changed too. You take them while we cooking," Vladimira gave her husband a quick kiss on his lips and he gave her a gentle swat on her butt. 

"Lene, go upstairs with lalya and Radka and get changed so we can go," Greg urged his daughter. 

"Where are we going?" Helena asked. 

"We go to sea garden," Viktor answered as he ran his hand down the back of her head. 

"You remember how much you like it there. And we might stop in some lovely shops along the way," Greg added. 

"Can we get some of those sweets?!" Helena remembered her favorite fruity candy that could only be found here. 

"If we find that sort of shop, certainly we can," Greg agreed. 

"Whatever princess want," Viktor added. 

"Come, girls," Vladimira herded them up the stairs. Soon all three women returned dressed much more casually. The girls had cute little tops and pants with co-ordinating sneakers. The adult had on sandals and a flowery, snug tank top with short shorts that hugged all her curves perfectly. It was very clear that Petar approved from the way he smiled at his wife and stepped close to her. He ran his hand appreciatively across the small of her back and down over her butt. 

"Okay, be good," Vladimira bid. 

"I will, Mamo," Radka agreed. 

"I talking to your cheecho," Vladimira clarified. "Don't let them kill each other." 

"We shall try," Greg smiled. Petar took hold of his wife by the back of her head and gave her a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. Then the men and children headed out. 

It was the same walk they had taken this morning. They made their way back to the cathedral with the kids jumping and skipping along ahead of them. Neither child needed to be reminded to wait for the adults when they came to a street they needed to cross. It had been ingrained in both of them since they could walk. Across the vast square before the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption of Mary, was the beginning of Bul Knyaz Boris I. This pedestrian only central city shopping promenade was lined with shops and cafés and restaurants. It began here at Vladislav Varnenchik Square and continued Northward before it jogged East and ended at the sea garden. In all it was over a mile long. Here was where the city had spent it's money to renovate and maintain. Sections of the street were almost like little parks with trees and benches beneath them. No buildings here were shabby. This street was very well maintained. The men were more indulgent here of letting their daughters run around, so long as they remained in sight. There was no danger on King Boris I Boulevard of being run over by a crazy driver. Some of the shops were closed for the religious holiday, but as this area catered to tourists, most were open. 

"Here it is, Daddy," Helena's ever watchful eye spotted it first. "Here's a store. Here it is," she took her cousin by the hand and together they dashed into the sweet shop. Hands in pockets, the men chuckled and followed them in. Bags of fruity and even Rose flavored candy later, they were back on the street. 

"Daddy, I love these!" Helena popped little soft fruit candies into her mouth. 

"Don't let's eat them all at once or you'll get a tummy ache. Both of you," Greg noticed Radka doing the same thing. 

"We won't," Helena handed the bag back to her father. "I want to play in the fort when we get to the sea garden. Cheecho Kliment, will you be Peter Pan?" 

"I Peter Pan," Kliment snatched her up in his arms. "We fly!" he tucked her under one arm and ran around the street with laughing child.

"Me too! Me too!" Radka jumped. Kliment needed both hands to keep Helena in her flying position under his left arm. Viktor was quick to snatch up his niece and let out a roar as they zoomed after Kliment and Helena. Greg and Petar were left to watch and smile. This manner of horseplay went on for the whole mile until they reached the strip of gardens that separated the city from the beach. There was a large playground for children and Kliment was only too happy to be dragged inside. Viktor, Greg and Petar sat on one of the many benches placed for such a purpose and watched them.

"You want go to beach tomorrow?" Viktor asked. 

"Oh, that's a marvelous idea. I love the beach here. We can all go, right?" Greg enthused. 

"Ne," Petar shook his head. 

"Come, Petar. You wear very tiny swim suit. Look very nice," Viktor teased. 

Petar laughed. "I have to work."

"Not on the weekend, surely," Greg countered. 

"Is no weekend at power plant. Someone must supervise staff. Tomorrow that someone me," Petar informed. "Vladimira go with you. I drop her off on way to work. Come back for dinner." 

"I guess he has a rather good excuse," Greg looked to his partner. 

"Da," Vikor nodded. 

"We leave Radka with you tonight. She sleep with Helena," Petar stated. 

"Certainly," Greg agreed. 

"You want adult time with Vladimira," Viktor poked the straight man on his chest with a finger. 

"Da," Petar nodded. "Adult time. I have her favorite wine, bubble bath and candle ready." 

"That sounds lovely, Petar. Good man," Greg endorsed. 

"Vladimira be pregnant by tomorrow," Viktor gave a grin. 

"I try," Petar smiled as he gave a shrug. Their attention was taken by the ring of Greg's cell and he fished it from his pocket. 

"Oh, blimey, it's Jasper!" Greg answered and raised the phone to his ear. "Jasper, old mate, how lovely to hear from you!" 

"Hey, Greg! How are you? Hope I'm not disturbing anything. I know this is an odd time for me to call," Jasper's voice was strangely uncertain. 

"Not at all. The kids are in the playground climbing on their uncle at the moment. It's a perfect time," Greg stated. 

"Big hug for Jasper!" Viktor leaned toward the phone in his partner's hand. 

"Did you hear Vik?" Greg asked. 

"I did. Big hug for him and Helena too. But wait, I thought I heard you say kids? And Uncle? Oh shit, you're in Bulgaria with Viktor's family. Damn, I'm sorry Greg. I completely forgot. I'll let you go. We can talk another time," Jasper apologized. 

"Nonsense, Jasper. Now is really a perfectly fine time. We're just watching the kids play and enjoying the park and sea breezes. What's on your mind?" Greg asked further. 

"Honestly? I don't even know myself. It's partly why I'm calling you. I'm in Chicago. With Edward," Jasper cringed a little as he waited for Greg's response. He very deliberately had not told his friend about this weekend earlier. But with everything that happened between him and Edward, he needed help to sort things out. Peter wasn't an option, so he turned to Greg.

"You are!" Greg did not expect that. "Excuse me. I'm just going to go have a natter with Jasper," he said to Viktor and Petar. Greg rose and strode away from the bench. "How ever did that happen?" Greg directed his question into the phone. 

"The show was on location here this week and I asked Edward if he wanted to join me for some sightseeing. Separate rooms. Just to get to know each other again. As friends," Jasper explained. 

"And how is that going, then?" Greg pressed.

"Fine. Good. He's changed a lot. Sometimes I can see he's really trying, which he hardly ever did before, and other times he's just so naturally easy to be around. It's like when we were friends before, but just the good parts, none of the manipulative and controlling shit, none of the arrogance. And I don't think it's an act. He's been keeping it up too long and too consistently. I think he really has changed. The way he is now, we could be really good friends, " Jasper went on. 

"Emmett says Edward's a good chap, or at least, he is now. So I'd say that's a jolly good thing," Greg stated. 

"I know," Jasper sighed. "Em has told me the same thing and everything I've seen reinforces it. And it is a good thing, but," Jasper vacillated. 

"It seems like you have some conflict in your mind. Bad memories getting in the way?" Greg asked. 

"I guess. The memories are slowly being pushed back, but they're still there. And I hate that I don't even know what I'm feeling. One second we're just buddies, hanging out, and then he'll do something and everything that I felt for him before just comes flooding back. And I have no idea how he feels. Sometimes I think it's the same for him, but then he seems to pull back. It's frustrating as hell. Then I remember how I could never really be sure where I stood with him before, and it's just the same now. Shit! I don't know if I'm coming or going," Jasper expressed. 

"Ah, I see," Greg got it. "The old feelings are coming back, quite possibly for both of you. You've seen for yourself that he's a new man, right? And you said you don't know how he feels. Have you asked him?"

"I can't do that, Greg," Jasper spoke with certainty. 

"Well, have you told him how this is making you feel?" Greg continued. 

"How can I when I don't even know myself? I'm afraid of what would happen if I said anything, even about being confused. What if he doesn't want me that way anymore? Or what if he does, and it turns out I'm not ready? It's too soon, but then sometimes when we touch there's these sparks, and," Jasper paused. "What the hell is wrong with me, Greg? I thought I was over him. I really did." 

"I don't think there is anything wrong with you at all, Jasper. You loved this man when he was an arsehole. Now, by all accounts, he's a right good chap. I think it's only natural that these feelings would come back," Greg assured. "The question is, how does he feel? Is he over you?"

"I only wish I knew. He's sending some pretty mixed signals and I don't really know him anymore. I mean, I never knew him as a gay man. Maybe he's this friendly with everyone?" Jasper mused. "We are going out to a gay club tonight. I guess I might find out more there." 

"I think that's a good plan, mate. And what do you mean by 'this friendly with everyone'? How friendly is he?" Greg asked. 

"I don't know if friendly is the right word. Maybe flirty is better? We were on this speed boat today and I freaked out so he held me the entire way, which could just be a friend thing to do, but then he said I was hot and he was flirting, I think. And then later, on the Ferris wheel, he put his arm around me and held my hand and kissed my knuckles. I mean, it was just a show for some tourists, but it kind of felt like more," Jasper informed. 

"Why would he need to put on a show like that for tourists? Those signals don't seem mixed to me," Greg stated. "What else has he done?" 

"You had to be there. I mean, we were both flirting, I guess. If you were talking to him he could tell you the same thing about me. And he hasn't done anything else, but sometimes it's just a look on his face or in his eyes. Or we'll be holding hands, or touching some other way, and it will be totally innocent, but then suddenly it will change. Does that even make any sense? I'm babbling, aren't I? It's like I said, I'm confused as all shit," Jasper gave a sigh. "What do you think I should do at the club tonight?"

"I can't help but wonder why a man who seems this into you would 'pull back,' as you put it. Could he be just as scared as you are?" Greg wondered aloud. 

"I don't normally inspire fear in people, Greg. And he's never been timid or anything other than completely self-assured. But I suppose people do change. I just don't know, is the bottom line," Jasper stated. 

"I think you need to find out, is the bottom line. When you go out to the club tonight, just be yourself and go with your instincts. Have a few drinks, but not too many. Alcohol is a great liberator, but don't let it impair your judgment. See how he acts," Greg advised. "I think you'll know a great deal more by morning." 

"You're right, mate," Jasper conceded. "I just need to give it some more time, and to observe him around other guys, I guess. I do wish we could just sit down in some coffee shop somewhere and talk everything out, but I'm just not that brave. Thanks for listening, Greg. It's such a relief to have someone to talk to about this. Peter would never understand."

"No, I don't imagine he would. Jasper, let me just ask you one more thing, and then I'll leave you to go. I know why you are there, but what is he doing in Chicago?" Greg posed. 

Jasper paused, confusion sweeping over him. "Sightseeing?" he guessed tentatively. "Catching up with an old friend?" he tried again when his first guess was greeted with silence.

"You fancy that's all it is? Seems to me like this chap tried awfully hard at Seth's wedding to make up to you, and it seems like he still is. I've never met Edward, but he reads to me like a man who has some deep feelings of his own. And we both know a couple of good mates who might could tell you," Greg pointed out. 

"No," Jasper was firm. "I know I could ask Emmett and Seth, and they might even tell me, but I don't want them to betray his confidence like . . . Let's just say this time if we're going to find anything out, it should be by talking to each other. No intermediaries. We’re both adults, for fuck's sake. Even if I'm not acting like one at the moment."

"Well, I think you've got the talking to each other part bang on, mate. Sounds like a good ole heart to heart might be the very best thing for both of you. I think you both have some feelings to sort through and bags to unpack. Best done together, right?" Greg urged. 

"Yeah. You're right, of course. It's just hard taking that first step. And then there's the fact that practically every time I've opened up and revealed everything to someone I loved, who I thought loved me back, it all turned to shit. I think I might be developing a phobia about sharing personal information, at least with anyone I'm interested in romantically. I'm a fucking mess. Really, he'd be better off without me," Jasper doubted himself. 

"I wouldn't call you a fucking mess, Jasper, and that aside, I'd say that's rather his decision to make. I know you've had a rough go of it romantically. If this one does not turn out to be a prince, that doesn't mean you should stop kissing the frogs," Greg saw Kliment laboring slowly away from the playground. The younger Krum wore two laughing and screeching children, who each sat on one of his feet and had their arms and legs wrapped around his leg. Kliment took great dramatic, lumbering steps and did his best to mimic Godzilla like noises. 

"Looks like the kids are ready to go. I'm always here if you need me, Jasper, anytime," Greg expressed. "Oh, I dash near forgot. There's a Julius Meinl café there in Chicago. I've no idea where, of course. I saw the chart when we stopped in the café in the airport in Vienna. If you only ever listen to one thing that I tell you, listen to this: it's the best bloody coffee on the face of the Earth. Do not miss it." 

Jasper laughed. "I knew there was a reason I called you this morning. Who else would take time away from his family, on vacation, no less, to listen to my problems and give me advice, and then throw in some tourist tips for good measure? You're a good man, Gregory Goyle. I am so damn lucky to have you as a friend. Thank you, and please apologize to your family for me, and to Viktor's family too." 

"Vik and I are with his brother, Kliment, and his sister's husband, Petar. We're teasing the straight boys, of course, as is our duty. Gives them a little bit of a break, so it's no trouble at all," Greg assured. "And as it's only morning there, go straight, I mean, gaily forward, to the Julius Meinl café right this minute. You'll be glad you did." 

"We have plans for this morning already, but I'll see what I can do this afternoon. Go back to teasing the straight boys. E-mail me when you get back home and I'll tell you all about the rest of the weekend. Hopefully by then I'll know much more."

"Absolutely, it's a promise. All the best with everything there. Vik and Lene and I send hugs and love," Greg expressed. 

"Same to all three of you. Bye, Greg."

"Cheerio, Jasper," Greg lowered the phone and ended the call. He walked back to the bench where Kliment had just arrived with his cargo of children. "Are we ready to go?" Greg asked as Viktor and Petar stood. 

"How Jasper?" Viktor asked. 

"He's good, for the most part. He's in Chicago at the moment with Edward," Greg informed. 

"Oh, da?" Viktor found that very interesting. 

"Did you talk to uncle Jasper?!" Helena asked with big eyes. 

"I did. And he said to be sure to give you a great big kiss and hug!" Greg squatted down to deliver those very things to his daughter. 

"I want to give him a kiss and hug too!" Helena expressed. 

"And I told him so," Greg assured as he stood and they set off. The girls were somewhat winded for the moment from running around with Kliment and consequently all six of them walked together through the sea garden, and back up King Boris I Boulevard. They strolled more leisurely on the way back home as the shadows from the sun lengthened across the street. It was Viktor that noticed it first. 

On the opposite side of the street from which they had come down originally was a shop with museum quality icons standing on easels behind windows framed with velvet drapes. The Byzantine works of religious art were hand painted in egg tempera and gold leaf. 

"Look, is beautiful," Viktor commented as they stopped to admire the artwork. 

"They are," Greg agreed. "Looks like the shop is closed today," he observed. 

"Is Archangel Michael," Viktor informed. 

"How do you know that, then?" Greg asked. 

Kliment giggled. "Sign say so," he pointed. 

"Oh, right," Greg had noticed the small placard beneath the icon, but of course, could not read it. "Sorry." 

"Hand painted by monks," Petar read the placard further. 

"Is about four thousand pounds," Viktor converted the leva price tag in his head. "So beautiful they are. Is worth it." 

"Fancy that at home," Greg made light. Viktor just smiled and the group moved on up the street. Only a few shops down, their interest piqued again. 

"What a charming little wine shop," Greg looked in through the windows. "Oh, look, they have a wine bar as well," he noticed a few other patrons. "You chaps fancy a glass of wine?" 

"Is good," Viktor put his arm around his partner's shoulders. "We have fine Bulgarian wine." 

"I no drink wine," Kliment commented as he followed the group inside. 

"Expand your horizons, Kliment," Greg urged. 

"How you know is good wine?" Kliment asked. 

"You know good wine if I say," Viktor stated. 

"What make you expert?" Kliment challenged. 

"I give you glass of piss," Viktor spoke as they walked up to the bar. 

"Vik," Greg chided. Viktor and Petar helped their daughters to climb up onto the barstools so that they could see. The men stood behind them. 

"Dobur den," a pleasant man in a dark red shirt and black pants strode behind the bar. 

"Zdravey," Viktor greeted. "Govorite li Angliysky?"

"Da, little bit only. Claris!" he called to a lady who appeared to be a co-worker. "Angliysky," he said simply and walked away as an attractive dark haired woman in a long black skirt and the same dark red shirt took his place. 

"Right, welcome, chaps. I'm Clarissa. How can I help you this fine afternoon?" she spoke with a London accent. 

"Oh!" Viktor raised his eyebrows. "England? Grigor also from England," he put his hand on Greg's shoulder. 

"You sound to be from London to my ear," Greg stated. "I’m from Yorkshire, but we three,” he pointed, “live in London."

"I am from London. Chelsea to be exact," Clarissa smiled. 

"Chelsea is swear word," Viktor shook his head. "I am Arsenal Gunner." 

"You play for Arsenal! I thought there was something familiar about you. Well, we're a long way from London, so I suppose I shall tolerate you at my bar. What can I get you blokes?" Clarissa smiled. 

"What do we fancy, chaps?" Greg asked. 

"What you like?" Kliment asked Clarissa. He turned on the charm and leaned on the bar toward her. She looked to be older than him, about his brother's age, and that was just as he liked it. Clarissa returned his smile and leaned on the bar from her side to be closer to him. 

"I rather fancy," she produced a bottle from under the bar, "Telish, if you care for a full bodied red." 

"Maybe try several," Viktor suggested. 

"Shall we do a sampling? That's a splendid idea," Greg agreed. "I'd love to start with something white though." 

"Right," Clarissa put the bottle in hand back beneath the bar. "Let's see then," she lined up four wine glasses before each of them. "And don't we have two darling girls. Something for you young ladies?"

"You have orangina?" Viktor asked. 

"I do, lovely cold ones in the cooler over there," Clarissa produced laminated sheets that gave a run down and brief descriptions of the Bulgarian wines for sale by the glass and bottle in the shop. 

"I get," Kliment headed off to fetch them. 

"Let's start with a traminer from Targovishte. Hard not to like this one," Clarissa poured a generous amount in the first glass for each adult. 

"I know this. Is very nice," Petar endorsed. Kliment returned with an orangina apiece for the children. 

"Would you ladies care for a glass with ice?" Clarissa asked. 

"Oh, yes, please!" Helena was all for that. 

"Quite a nose, rather floral," Greg observed. 

"I like." Viktor nodded. He noticed Kliment take a sip and raise his eyebrows as he mulled it over. "Is good," Viktor gave his brother a light punch on his upper arm. 

"Okay, is good," Kliment agreed. Clarissa served up two tumblers with ice and poured the orangina for Helena and Radka. 

"Lovely," Greg nodded. "What shall we try next?"

"I think you might like this one," Clarissa produced another bottle from the cooler. "Not a typical blush wine, this is a blend of cabernet sauvignon and merlot grapes. The peels are extracted after only a short time, making this charming rosé," she explained as she poured. 

"Oh," Kliment found this very amusing. "Is pink for you," he patted his brother on the back. 

"My," Greg observed appreciatively as he inhaled through his nose and took a sip. 

"Is good," Viktor did the same. 

"You like pretty pink wine?" Kliment smiled. Viktor watched his brother and waited until Kliment took a sip. 

"Maybe should tell you. Pink wine what make me gay," Viktor gestured with his glass. Kliment stopped in mid sip with his glass at his lips. He lowered the glass slightly and slowly let the wine dribble out of his mouth and back into the glass. 

"Charming," Greg observed. Petar just chuckled. 

"Is too late. All have to do is taste," Viktor gave a shrug. He made a show of draining his glass and gave a most satisfied sigh. 

"You drink it?" Kliment asked his brother-in-law. Petar made a point of taking another sip before he answered. 

"I leave you sister. Take you home," Petar teased. 

"Ne, ne," Kliment shook his head. 

"Is good, Petar. Stay one family that way," Viktor patted his brother-in-law on the shoulder. 

"I can dress them up you know," Greg shook his head. "So, Clarissa, what brings a Chelsea girl to Varna?" 

"When you fall in love with a Bulgarian boy," Clarissa gave a shrug. "I suspect you know how that is," she gave a sly smile. 

"I can very much relate," Greg nodded. 

"That was my husband, Yosif, who called me over for you," Clarissa informed. 

"Ah," Greg looked round the shop and spotted him helping another couple. Then he looked over the three men who were with him. "There is something about these Bulgarian boys." 

"You just look that one," Kliment pointed at his brother.

"Drink up," Viktor bid. 

"Is more for you," Kliment slid his glass along the bar toward his brother. 

"Glass full of spit, so nice," Viktor dismissed. 

"What's next, Clarissa, please?" Greg steered them forward. 

"Let's try a red then, shall we?" Clarissa selected a bottle. 

"That rosé was quite remarkable," Greg mused. "I've never met a blush wine that I liked before today. Might have to get some of that." 

"Bulgaria second largest exporter of fine wine in whole world, after only France," Viktor boasted. 

"We are?" Kliment asked. 

"Quite true," Clarissa confirmed. "This is a very interesting one. One of my favorites," she explained as she poured for them. "This is seventy percent merlot and thirty percent rubin from Tcherga. It's quite velvety with a lovely finish." 

"Oh, I like," Petar enthused. "I not try this one before," he noticed that Kliment was still just sniffing it. "Very manly. Make you straight again." 

"You no worry me. You drink whole bottle," Kliment countered and took a sip. 

"It's claret," Greg concluded. 

"It is rather," Clarissa agreed. 

"Dré would just adore this," Greg was certain. 

"Da," Viktor agreed with a nod. 

"Who Dré?" Kliment asked. 

"Friend of ours. He go to school with Grigor," Viktor explained. "He neposluchen sometimes. Remind of you." 

"I no neposlushen," Kliment argued. 

"Not always," Viktor conceded. "Just last twenty years."

"Govnarche," Kliment muttered. Greg recognized the Bulgarian words for ill behaved boy and shithead, in that order, and watched his lover chuckle. 

"Moving right along," Clarissa reached for a last bottle. It was clear she understood the words as well. 

"Oh, yes, please," Greg urged. 

"We shall finish with a nice, rich cabernet from Domaine Boyar," Clarissa poured. "Just you chaps take in this nose." 

"Mmm," Greg agreed. Viktor could not wait to taste it and was the first to do so. 

"Vladimira love this," Petar stated in a tone that made it clear that he meant she would, rather than did. 

"We're on foot, Clarissa. I wonder if you could send a case round the house?" Greg asked. "Three bottles of each." 

"You must be very close by. Sure we can. I'll have it round about the time you get home," Clarissa agreed with a smile. She set out a pad and pen and Viktor set about writing down the address while Greg pulled out his wallet. 

"No pink one," Kliment shook his head.

"I get extra pink one for you," Viktor countered. 

"Three of each, please," Greg reiterated. 

"Sure," Clarissa gave her fellow Brit a nod. "I'll just go ring this up, shall I? Before I do, would you chaps like one more glass for the road, on the house? It's the least I can do for a Gunner and his mates, who must live with the fact that he will never, ever beat Chelsea."

"Hoh!" Kliment started to laugh and punched his big brother on the upper arm. 

"I see how is," Viktor slowly nodded. 

"I used to think you were a lovely girl, Clarissa," Greg said with a sigh. 

"What'll it be, then? Rosé?" she pulled the bottle from the cooler. 

"That's what I would like," Greg affirmed.

"Da," Viktor agreed. 

"No pink," Kliment shook his head. "White." 

"The Tcherga you pour us," Petar answered. She poured a full glass for each of them and walked off with Greg's credit card. 

Ten minutes later they were back on the street. Helena and Radka were refreshed and skipped and jumped ahead of their adults. 

"I can't believe how inexpensive that was," Greg commented as he read over their order. Viktor made no comment while he put his arm around his brother's neck and pulled Kliment's head down to his chest. Kliment only laughed and pushed his big brother away. 

"I no believe you make drink gay pink wine," Kliment teased. Viktor reached for him again and this time Kliment laughed as he danced out of reach. 

"I make you go Club Aleksandar. Drink more pink wine with us," Viktor threatened. 

"I go ID Club all time," Kliment dismissed. 

"Da?" Petar asked with raised eyebrows. He had heard about Varna's only gay bar, but he had certainly never been there. 

"What that, ID Club?" Viktor asked. 

"Club Aleksandar gone. Is ID Club now. See," Kliment pointed. They came to, and passed by again, the Interhotel Cherno More as they walked back along King Boris I Boulevard. Tables with large umbrellas made up the outdoor café in front of the hotel. On the side of the big hotel marquee, in much smaller letters, read: ID Club and had the club's new logo, a keyhole symbol. These neon signs were off during the day making them far less noticeable. 

"Is excellent place meet girl," Kliment endorsed. "Gay boy always have girl around. Need real man take care them. I do this," he spread his arms. 

"A right public service you are," Greg quipped. 

"You tell truth?" Viktor asked with a narrow gaze. "I make you go with us," he threatened with a pointed finger. 

"Da, I go," Kliment agreed with a smile. "Valery, Svilen go," he added. 

"Those two still around?" Viktor enquired. 

"Da. They my, how you say it, mates?" Kliment asked. 

"Mates. Right," Greg confirmed. 

"Mates go ID Club, but no drink pink wine," Kliment stated. 

"You will when go with us," Viktor dictated. "You come, Petar?"

"Ne," Petar shook his head with a chuckle. In spite of the yet prevailing attitude in Bulgaria, Petar Stoyanov had no problem with gay people and loved his brothers-in-law. Going out to a gay bar with them, however, was where he drew the line. 

It was a warm summer day and the Krum home had the doors and windows open wide. Fantastic, mouth watering aromas greeted them well before they reached the front door. 

"Oh!" Viktor rubbed his stomach with wide eyes. 

"Bloody hell, does that smell good!" Greg exclaimed as they all filed into the living room. "Sirenka!" he isolated the smell of one of his favorite things. Greg loved the special bread baked with the Bulgarian white cheese in it. He would never forget what that was called. Iskra promptly came out of the kitchen with a piece of the bread, still warm from the oven, in her hand. She walked up to Greg and fed it to him. 

"Oh, Maika," Greg chewed. Iskra patted her British son-in-law's face with a smile. 

"Where for me?" Viktor protested his mother's obvious favoritism.

"Is more in kitchen," Iskra dismissed. Kliment did not hesitate and Petar was right behind him. 

"What a lovely girl you are, Maika," Greg complimented. 

"My girl like sirenka?" Iskra asked as she bent over and smiled at her granddaughters. 

"Yes, please!" Helena answered for them both. 

"Come help baba in kitchen," Iskra turned and the girls bounced after her. 

"Is official. Maika like you best," Viktor stated with a nod. 

"Of course she does. Quite charming, I am, and maika has only seen me at my best," Greg faced his partner and put his arms loosely around Viktor's waist. "You are at a disadvantage in that your mum can remember what an impossible child you were." 

"That why your maika like me so much?" Viktor smiled. 

"She adores you. It's no contest at all," Greg confirmed. Viktor wrapped his arms around his lover and hugged him as tightly as he knew Greg could stand it. 

The beep of a small horn from the street drew their attention as a tiny, aged, rattletrap flatbed truck no larger than a Mini Cooper pulled up before the house. 

"Ah, here is wine," Viktor headed for the front door. 

"I think I'll take this opportunity to check in on the lads," Greg pulled his cell from his shorts pocket as he followed Viktor out the front door. He paused for the briefest moment as he considered who he should call. He wanted most of all to talk to Rick, but this being the weekend, Greg knew that Rick would be with Ashok and every moment they had to bond and grow closer was time well spent. He decided to call Vince as he would at least have details. 

 

\-----------------------------~-----------------------------

 

Vincent Crabbe lay on his back with his body half inside the cabinet beneath a kitchen sink in one of their apartments. He wore a tight, dark blue tank top with dark gray trim to match his loose, fleece track shorts. The tenant was not at home, but Vince was not alone. The landlord's son sat cross legged on the kitchen floor between his widely planted feet and handed him tools as he needed them. The thin man wore a loose black tee shirt and black denim shorts. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, while he watched the skilled man make his work look easy. 

"Do you normally dress this way when you come to look after this sink?" Dré asked. 

"I don't know," Vince asked. 

"How do you not know?" Dré challenged. 

"I guess I've never paid any attention. Why do you ask?" Vince enquired. 

"I rather think I just figured out why Mrs. McGillicutty has so much trouble with this sink," Dré surmised. 

"What's that, then?" Vince did not get it. 

"Because my personal property can be easily seen up the wide, loose legs of these shorts," Dré informed. 

"Oh?" Vince lifted his head to look at his partner and laughed. "I didn't realize that. I shan’t wear these anymore," he returned his attention to his work. 

"Oh yes you shall," Dré ran his hands up his lover's shins and over Vince's bent knees. 

"I'll put on underwear, then," Vince stated. 

"Oh, no," Dré smiled. "No underwear for my peach. These shorts are just right, just as they are," he ran his hands up Vince's thighs into the loose shorts. "So long as I'm the only one looking up them," Dré finished his thought. Vince smiled as he felt his lover's fingers curl around his loose sac, and just then his cell phone rang. 

"There's ruddy timing. Will you get that, Duck?" Vince asked. Dré reluctantly let go of his lover's testicles and fished Vince's cell from his pocket. 

"It's Goyle," Dré announced as he answered the call and raised the phone to his face. "Hello, Gregory. How are things in the third world?" 

Greg stood out on the Krum front porch and watched Viktor interact with the delivery driver from the wine shop, who looked to be nowhere near old enough to drive. "Positively quaint, you little git. Is your man around?" 

"He's laboring under a kitchen sink with my hand up his shorts at the moment," Dré answered. 

"I see. Are you distracting him or is he distracting you, is my question," Greg was flip. 

"I don't compete for attention with a kitchen sink, Goyle," Dré answered in a flat tone. 

"Right. How was your meeting with the party?" Greg watched Viktor and the delivery kid speak to each other in Bulgarian. Greg could not understand a word they said, but he had no need. From the kid's animated face and expression of pure admiration it was quite clear he had recognized a sports hero. 

"Huh," Dré scoffed. "Not my party. That man is pure evil and my father worships him. I fear for this country," he confessed. "By the way, I came home to an empty house when my father's driver dropped me off. Thank you for that." 

"That's what I wanted to talk to Vince about," Greg was unapologetic. "Has he a moment?" 

"Goyle wants to natter about the other night when you carried that arseholed twit home," Dré handed his partner's phone back to him. Vince set his tools down, ignored his lover's caustic remark, and brought his cell to his ear. 

"Greg, mate," Vince greeted. 

"Hi, Vince. Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see how things went the other night," Greg began. 

"Rick was right tanked up when I got to him. Had to take him to the loo and hold him up so's he could have a piss," Vince informed. He closed his eyes as his lover's hands ran up both his legs into his shorts again. 

"Might have guessed. What happened when you got him home?" Greg asked. 

"Ashok was waiting right there at the door. He looked so worried, Greg, I’m sure even Rick could see it. I offered to help Ashok pour Rick into bed, but he said you told him to keep Rick awake," Vince relayed events while Dré fondled him. The platinum blonde smiled as his lover's cock expanded in his hand. 

"Ashok had water and toast ready, just like you told him," Vince gave a sigh and spread his legs further as Dré pushed the shorts up his thighs and pulled his cock and balls out his right shorts leg. "I steered Rick to the sofa and sat him down. Ashok brought the toast and Rick ate it up like he’d never had food in his life," he gave another sigh as his lover began to stroke his hardness. "He wasn’t so keen on the water but I put him straight and made him drink it. Then I had to go. I would have stayed longer, but I was double parked. "

"You did everything that was needed and more, and it sounds like you left everything under control," Greg said as he sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the porch. He smiled as he watched Viktor sign a paper to give the delivery boy his autograph. 

"Anyway, I found out what happened after I left when Ashok came by the next day," Vince gasped as a warm, sensual tongue unexpectedly ran up his length, along his sensitive cum tube, and over the head of his penis. 

"Are you alright, Vince?" Greg asked. 

"Fine," Vince dismissed. "Apparently Ashok managed to get Rick to bed all by himself and they fell asleep having a cuddle. Say, did you know those two have been messing around and sleeping together? If you could have seen Ashok's face when he told me about that. He’s just so sweet, and so obviously infatuated with Rick," Vince sighed again as Dré planted soft kisses up and down his hard cock. 

Greg furrowed his brow as he heard this. He suspected he might know what was going on at the other end of this phone call and made up his mind to not ask further. Greg watched Viktor lift the case of wine like it was nothing and carry it to the porch. The delivery boy got back in his tiny rattletrap truck and roared away all smiles. 

"Did Ashok tell you anything else, Vince?" Greg prompted. 

"Oh," Vince lay half under the sink with his eyes closed as he held the phone and enjoyed the sensation of his lover's lips on his bone. He didn't even realize that he had stopped talking. "No. Just that they cuddled and that he thought H was a very stupid man for not realizing how much Rick loved him. I could have told Ashok the same thing about Rick, but I bit my tongue," Vince paused again as Dré's tongue passed slowly through his moist slit. 

"Mmm," Dré tasted his lover's precum and licked the snake's eye again hoping for more. 

"I wonder if Rick went to work yesterday," Greg mused. 

"He did. Ashok came round the usual time and brought me the lovely brisket he made for Rick the previous night. Let me tell you, that brisket was the dog’s bollocks, it was. We had a fine lunch. Anyway, he said Rick had gone off to work, though, markedly the worse for wear as you might guess. Then Rick called Friday afternoon, asking for Dré and me to take him out with us, but I managed to talk sense into him. Last I heard Ashok was heading home to make Rick a nice dinner," Vince informed. He bit his lip to keep from moaning into the phone as Dré's mouth closed around his prick. 

"I would like to call, but I hesitate to intrude on their time just now," Greg thought out loud. 

"Right," Vince agreed as his lover's lips massaged his now throbbing cock. 

"I'll ring off then, Vince. Thanks ever so for taking care of them," Greg expressed. 

"Cheers, mate," Vince quickly ended the call and dropped the phone. He took hold of the platinum blonde head with both hands. "Ugh. You little bastard!" Vince pushed Dré's head down tight to his body, shoving his hard pole down the slight man's throat. He held Dré in place, choking his lover with his cock. Dré had been hoping to provoke the stronger man into doing exactly that. 

 

\--------------------------------~---------------------------------

 

Viktor stood holding the case of wine and watched his partner finish his call. "What?" he read the slightly disturbed look on Greg's face. 

"I have the uneasy feeling that a tap is not what Vince was working on. Or not what Dré was working on anyway," Greg slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

"Dré work on Vince tap," Viktor suggested with a smile. 

"I don’t at all doubt it," Greg gave a slow nod. 

"Kliment, come help with pink wine!" Viktor called as he finally headed into the house with the case. 

"Ne!" came the shout back. Greg rose and followed his partner inside. 

"Tell maika how much you like," Viktor continued to tease. 

Kliment walked out of the kitchen to meet his big brother in the living room. He put a gentle hand on Viktor's shoulder. "Brat, pink wine all for you. I wish you happy long life with Grigor," he reached his other hand to Greg's shoulder. "Drink pink wine every day. But no for me," Kliment shook his head. 

"What he mean, pink wine?" Vladimira asked as she also walked out of the kitchen. 

"He means a blush wine, a rosé. Though how that came to be synonymous with gay, I've no idea," Greg answered. "Let's get the whites and pinks in the fridge, Vik," he put his hand on Viktor's back. 

"Da," Viktor agreed. 

They sat round the large, old, wooden table in the rustic appearing kitchen. The table had been made by hand and had all the character being in the Krum family for generations would give it. Those on the side nearest the wall sat on a long wooden bench that had been made at the same time. The mismatched chairs had been gathered over many years and some were no older than Viktor. As the unofficial head of the family Petar took the head of the table and Viktor took the other end. Greg and Vladimira both sat beside their mate. Helena and Radka sat together, and Iskra sat beside her baby boy. 

Supper was an elaborate affair with many dishes. Iskra and her daughter had outdone themselves and were happy to do it. Greg had to force himself to stop eating the sirenka, lest he have room for nothing else. Petar, and Iskra with him, was a traditionalist when it came to holiday meals and insisted that everyone have a glass of rakia with the shopska to start. Petar had brought several bottles of his favorite Peshterska Otlezhala rakia and poured the golden salmon colored liquid for the adults in the family. Greg never did understand why Bulgarians were so set on drinking this admittedly good, but very strong grappa like beverage with their first course, which was invariably shopska. It seemed to him that a pinot grigio would be a better accompaniment to the tomato, cucumber, roasted pepper and Bulgarian white sirene cheese salad, but he accepted his Bulgarian partner, and the family that came with him, just as they were. Viktor had never complained when his mother served them her pheasant and pickled walnut terrine, or other such extremely British dishes. 

The shopska was followed by tarator. Viktor opened a chilled bottle of the rosé to accompany the cold yogurt and cucumber soup. Kliment and Petar elected to have another glass of the rakia. The red wines came out when the kavarma kebap, witch Iskra and her daughter liked to make with tender veal, and the kebapcheta made of lamb were served. There were also stuffed mushroom caps and fried eggplant. 

"Oh, how nice this is," Vladimira commented when she took her first sip of the Domaine Boyar cabernet sauvignon. "Petar, you try?" 

"I knew you like," Petar smiled at his wife. 

"Why don't you take a bottle home with you?" Greg suggested. 

"Da," Viktor nodded. 

"Thank you," Vladimira agreed. "I like very much." 

After dinner they retired to the living room for coffee. Helena broke out her coloring books and crayons, and her cousin joined her in spreading out across the living room floor. 

"Maika, Vladimira, everything was quite simply delicious. I don't remember when I ever ate so much," Greg reclined on the small sofa beside his partner. "Kliment, it's a wonder you don't weigh twenty stone with all the good food in this house." 

"I like see my boy eat," Iskra smiled broadly. 

"When we have cake?" Kliment asked as if he had not already eaten twice what anyone else had. 

"Oh dear Lord, I forgot all about the cake," Greg stated. 

"Maika, we wait hour two," Viktor instructed. Petar exchanged a glance with his wife and Greg saw it. 

"Da," Iskra nodded. "We wait."

"Perhaps we could clean up and cut the cake just as soon as we're ready," Greg suggested. 

"Ne, ne," Iskra crossed herself. 

"Never cut zagoveznishka cake. That how my father die," Viktor stated in all seriousness. Greg, of course, had heard this story many times. The family had special guests for the holiday that year and Iskra had cut the cake rather than break it apart to make it look more presentable on the plate. A knife taken to zagoveznishka cake was said to bring calamity on the house. That year Lyubomir Krum had died quite unexpectedly. He had been in good health. And because he died during the Unclean Days between Christmas and the Feast of the Epiphany, two funerals had been required. Iskra and her children watched as their husband and father was dug up, given a full second funeral by the orthodox priest on the day of his patron saint and reburied. Such a thing was an absolute necessity for someone who had died during the Unclean Days, lest the deceased become an upior. 

"Of course," Greg was horrified that had made such a slip of the tongue. "I'm terribly sorry. I meant break and serve the cake. That's what I meant. And if we're too full still, Petar and Vladimira can take theirs with them." 

"We know what mean you, Grigor," Vladimira threw him a life line. "Is very thoughtful." 

"Is very thoughtful, Slunchitze," Viktor took his lover's hand. 

"Come help me clean up, Sweet," Greg rose and Viktor followed. 

"I clean up," Iskra protested. 

"No, Maika," Greg countered. "You and Vladimira slaved away all day in that kitchen making us a feast fit for King Boris. You put your feet up." 

"Da. No argue with Grigor," Viktor shook his finger. 

"Or else what? Make drink pink wine?" Kliment found himself very funny. 

"Straight from the bottle," Greg confirmed. 

"I put pink wine bottle in you arse," Viktor threatened. Petar burst out laughing. 

"Vik, he's just being cute. C'mon," Greg urged. Viktor said nothing more and followed his partner into the kitchen. Greg started to gather up dishes from the table. 

"I start on pots," Viktor headed for the deep farmhouse style sink. 

"Vik," Greg brought a stack of plates to the counter beside the sink. "I'm sorry about that back there, about your father. I feel terrible. I'm so sorry." 

Viktor took his lover's face in his hands and looked deeply into the light brown eyes. "Tay obicham," he kissed Greg lovingly on his lips. 

"Tay obicham, Vik," Greg kissed his partner a second time. 

"Oh, see what pink wine do," Kliment saw the intimate moment between his brother and brother-in-law as he walked into the kitchen. "How I help?" 

"You tasted the rosé too. Sure you wouldn't like a little kiss?" Greg teased. 

"I no swallow," Kliment shook his head. 

"We always swallow," Viktor asserted. 

"We still talk about wine?" Kliment asked with a grin. 

"Were we talking about wine?" Greg made a mock puzzled face. 

"Go wipe table," Viktor tossed his brother a wet cloth. Kliment snickered to himself as he did so. Between the three of them the kitchen was spotless and everything put away in a matter of a few minutes. Kliment set out the cake and Viktor placed dessert plates on the table. 

"Petar, come break cake," Kliment called to the defacto head of the family. Just as the adults in the living room rose there came a knock at the screen door. 

"Dobar večer," a male voice called. 

"Oh, there rest of my boy," Iskra smiled. She called to them in Bulgarian to come in. The screen door opened and two exceptionally attractive twenty year old men walked into the Krum house. The first man wore a white tee shirt with Cyrillic letters on it layered over a black one with white capri shorts and sneakers. By virtue of careful shaving he had a hint of a mustache and soul patch. His longish dark hair that hung in wet curls made it obvious that he was fresh from the shower. The second man was not quite as tall. He wore a skin tight black tee shirt and black denim shorts. His shorter, equally black hair was spiked up. 

"You just time for cake," Iskra spoke as she kissed each young man on the cheek. They both looked at her with a furrowed brow. They could not imagine why she would speak to them in English. Until they saw Helena's blonde head on the floor beside Radka. 

"Viktor here?" the man in white asked. 

"Da. Viktor, Grigor, Helena," Iskra beamed. Viktor and Greg followed Kliment out of the kitchen hand in hand. 

"You be Helena," the man in black squatted down by the girls. 

"Hello," Helena smiled sweetly. 

"Hello," he gave a nod. "Zdrasti, Radka." 

"Zdrasti, Svilen," Radka echoed without bothering to look up from her coloring project. 

"Hey, guys," Kliment greeted his friends. They did the straight guy one armed hug with their clasped hands and forearms between them while clapping each other's back with the other hand. "You know my brother, his partner Grigor." 

"Viktor," the man in white wore admiration clear on his face as he shook the professional footballer's hand. 

"Valery," Viktor smiled. 

"Grigor," Valery offered the Brit his hand as well. 

"Hi, Valery, Svilen," Greg shook both their hands. "Lovely to see you again. Are you keeping our boy out of trouble?" he gestured to Kliment with his chin. 

"I get them in!" Kliment joked. 

"Come. We have cake," Iskra herded everyone into her kitchen. Everyone made room for the extra adults around the big table in the Krum kitchen. Kliment fetched a beer for his mates and for Viktor and Greg as well. Iskra and Petar stuck with coffee while Vladimira had another glass of the Targovishte traminer. Greg and Svilen both noticed that Kliment gave them an Almus, while the rest of the beer drinkers had an MM Varna. 

"Good taste, Grigor," Svilen held up his bottle. 

"Cheers, mate," Greg touched the neck of his bottle to Svilen's before they both took a chug. 

"Petar and I go now, Maika," Vladimira announced when she and her husband were only half done with their cake. Peter quickly pushed his plate away. He was very hungry, but not for cake. 

"Da, you go," Iskra set her fork down. "Radka stay with baba," she knew exactly what her daughter and son-in-law were up to and was all for it. 

"Petar drop me way to work in morning," Vladimira rose and bent to give her mother a kiss. A general movement began as everyone rose from the table to see them off. 

"Radka, maika and tatee see you in morning," Vladimira said to her daughter. Radka jumped up to give her mother a hug. Petar squatted down for his turn. 

"Be good, momichentse," Petar hugged his child tightly. 

"Tay obicham, Tatee, Maika," Radka hung around her father's neck for a long moment. She gave both her parents a kiss. It was certainly not the first time she had stayed with her grandmother and uncle. 

"Night, Cheecho, Lalya," Helena gave them a wave. 

"Night-night, Helena," Petar smiled. 

"We'll see you in the morning, right?" Greg gave his sister-in-law a hug. 

"Da," Vladimira confirmed as the Brit took her in his arms. 

"Good luck," Greg whispered into her ear. She pulled back and gave him a knowing smile before she took her husband's hand and followed him out the door. 

"Leka nošt," Viktor called after them. "I think they want make baby," he thought out loud. 

"Do you think?" Greg did not let on that he knew. 

"You want go ID Club?" Kliment asked his friends. 

"Da," Valery was all for it. 

"I change," Kliment wapped his brother on the arm. "You get change too. We go." 

"This should be interesting," Greg smiled. 

"Maika, we go out," Viktor called. 

"Da, go. Have good time," Iskra called back from the kitchen. Viktor took his lover's hand and led him up the stairs behind his brother. Kliment once again did not shut his bedroom door and Greg looked away as the younger man peeled his tee shirt off over his head. At least this time it was not the straight boy's bare butt on display. Greg closed their bedroom door behind them. 

"What you want wear, Slunchitze?" Viktor began to pull clothes from their suitcase. 

"One of my polos and jeans," Greg pulled his tee shirt off over his head. 

"You bring Dolce Gabbana jeans like I say?" Viktor looked through the clothes. 

"Yes. I don't know why I let you talk me into those expensive jeans. They're too tight," Greg complained. 

"Ne," Viktor shook his head as he pulled both their jeans from the suitcase. "They just right." 

"How you look in them is just right," Greg dropped and stepped out of his shorts. Viktor stepped over to his naked lover. 

"How they show this," Viktor cupped Greg's soft, yet still impressively thick cock and balls, "and this," he grabbed Greg's butt cheek, "very nice. I like." 

"Imagine how you look in them. It should be illegal," Greg gave his partner a soft kiss on his lips. 

"Is all for you," Viktor smiled and pulled his shirt off over his head with one arm. 

"Yes it is," Greg ran his hands appreciatively over his lover's solid, broad chest. They did not keep the straight boys waiting long. Greg wore a pale blue polo shirt while Viktor had on a snug black tank top and they both wore their matching Dolce and Gabbana jeans with their sandals. They found Kliment was already ready in a plain white tee shirt that was clearly too small on him. The skin tight, thin shirt clearly displayed his nipples and did not quite reach his snug, low rise jeans. 

"Excuse me just a moment, little boy," Greg put his hand on Kliment's hip to turn him. "You certainly don't look like any straight boy I know." 

"I know," Kliment smiled. "Girl no think too. They no be on guard." 

"Oh, is that your strategy?" Greg gave a slow nod. 

"I guarantee get more action that you tonight," Kliment boasted. 

"I can guarantee that too, but it might not be the action you want!" Greg gave his straight brother-in-law a light smack on his butt. 

"Come here, Princess," Viktor squatted down and picked her up when she stepped into his arms. "Love you so much. Tatee and daddy go out with cheecho for little while." 

"Okay, Tatee," Helena kissed her stronger father before he set her back down. 

"Play with Radka and go to bed when baba tells you," Greg put a hand to the back of his daughter's head. He squatted down to give her a hug and kiss. "We love you and we'll see you in the morning." 

"I love you too," Helena said sweetly and then rejoined her cousin on the floor amidst their spread out books. 

"Night, Radka," Greg bid. 

"Night, Cheecho," she did not bother to look up. 

"You boy go now. Have good time," Iskra came from the kitchen. "You have key?" 

"Da, have key," Viktor answered. 

"Kliment probably not come home again," Iskra shook her head. 

"I hope not," Kliment gave a big smile. 

"Oh!" Iskra slapped her youngest on the back on his way out.


End file.
